Just Visiting
by Capn'Jack
Summary: Two girls are brought to France. One helps a man find new love, the other eventually finds a new life. But what happens when someone tries to rid the opera house of its opera ghost? FINISHED.
1. The Short Prologue

Ok you guys. This is the part where I schpeel about how I own nothing. I. Own. Nothing. Happy lawyers? Why can't I pretend to own them, eh? What'd be wrong with that? But, alas, no I cannot. And neither can you Will! Ah ha ha! maniacal laughter Anyways. Hope you have fun with this fic.

* * *

Elsa and Danielle plopped themselves down on the sofa to watch Phantom of the Opera, for it had just been released on DVD. 

"Wheehaw!" cried Elsa, more than a little hyper.

"YAY! PHANTOM!" squealed Danielle.

Elsa gasped, inspired, and covered half of her face with a pillow. "I am your angel of music!" she sang. "Come to your angel of music!" She reached out her hand to Danielle, who slapped it away. "Aww. You don't love your phantom...I cry!" She threw herself on the floor and began to sob viciously.

"Oi. Dork. I love you!" she laughed and jumped on her friend.

"Eep! Not the cloak!"

"What cloak?"

"I'm not wearing a cloak?" asked Elsa, examining her attire. "But I'm the Opera Ghost." She stared at her feet. "Damn. No cloak."

"Aw you're so cute!" Danielle hugged her friend.

"Eh..." Elsa pushed her away.

Suddenly, the candle popped up on the screen and the flame flickered, and the eerie music began a-playin'.

The two girls sat mesmerized by the oldish black and white picture and the oldish wrinkylish black and white Vicomte de Chagny rolling around in his wheelchair.

"Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago," said the auctioneer in the film as he introduced the chandelier of the Opera Populaire to the auction crowd. "Gentlemen."

_DUUHN! DUHN DUHN DUHN DUHN DUUUUUUHN!_ went the music and _CRACK! ZAP!_ went the power in the house Elsa and Danielle were sitting in, alone, no adults anywhere. They screamed and jumped up on their feet.

"NOOOO!" Elsa cried, running to the TV and kicking it. _"Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little-" _

_WHOOOOOOOOOSH._

"Shit," said Elsa meekly, and she was gone in a second, leaving Danielle alone in the dark room.

"Oh crap," mumbled Danielle as she walked to the TV screen. "Jack come back! Don't leave me!" She kicked the TV too out of anger. "Giver her back dammit! Come on TV! _That's all I ask of you!"_

_WHOOOOOOOOOSH._

"Damn," cursed Danielle and she too was gone in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Ok that was the really short, kinda gay, leading-up-to introduction. Just go to the next one! It gets better. PROMISE! crosses heart and hope to die Review! 


	2. Lairs and Dressing Rooms

Here we go people. A longer chapter. I do tell you now though, these chapters won't be the longest in the world. For nowanyway. What's the point in breakin' them up then? To give your hand somethin' to do! So remember, after every chapter, click to read more! Thanks! Yay!

I DON'T OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE!

* * *

THUMP. Elsa landed on something hard. And cold. 

"Damn time continuum vortex!" she mumbled, laying there, staring at the ground. "Ooo. Nice stone finishing," she mused. Mist swirled around her and she heard lapping water.

Elsa rolled onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she peered into the mist and saw a boat on the lake.

"Amazing..."

Then she realized music was playing somewhere. Nice, soft, slow piano music.

"Hmm..." She thought, looking around. "Could this really be my lair?" she asked herself, addressing herself as the Phantom, her other, other alias (other than Jack).

The piano stopped. Some movement was heard. And then humming. Sweet soft humming that matched the piano's melody.

Elsa sighed happily, closed her eyes and thought, "Oh yeah. That's the Phantom. No doubt."

Her eyes snapped open. Phantom?

"Oh shiitake...What in hellfire do I do? Be calm, be calm, do not panic, do not scream, Elsa, you do not scream..." she told herself.

The humming grew closer.

Crap.

Footsteps approached. A crackling was heard. The Phantom was lighting candles all over his lair. And there was a candelabra right above Elsa's head.

"I know...FAKE KNOCKED OUT!" Elsa let her head drop back to the stone floor and closed her eyes, then positioned her legs and arms out so it looked like she had fainted...or something.

The footsteps got closer still, then stopped.

Oh God he's seen me, Elsa thought frantically. Please don't kill me Erik, please...

"What's this?" came a soft, melodious voice. The Phantom of the Opera stood a few feet away from a still body lying on the stone floor of his home. He frowned. An intruder?

Elsa's heart raced as she felt fabric brush over her hand as he leaned to examine her.

"Mademoiselle," he said into her ear.

She was inclined to open her eyes.

A stern face looked down at her and she sat up quickly. But a glove hand caught her arm before she could stand.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Uh..." Elsa couldn't form a complete sentence. She was too busy thinking of the noose she knew she would feel soon. He would hang her wouldn't he? Of course he would. She was going to die. She panicked and fainted, dropping back to the floor.

* * *

Danielle collided with something soft. 

"Ooo cushy!" thought Danielle. She sat up. "Ooo pretty." Flowers surrounded her, and she found she was sitting on a feather bed, trimmed with lace and satin. "Where the heck?"

A scream echoed through the room.

Danielle jumped off the bed and screamed herself. "What the-!"

Christine Daae held her hands to her mouth and screamed again.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Danielle said.

"Raoul! Madame Giry! Someone help me!" cried Christine.

"Oh no! Don't! Wait! Christine!"

"You know my name?" said Christine, still traumatized. Christine fainted on the spot, falling to the floor.

"No! Shit, shit, shit," cursed Danielle.

Suddenly, the door swung open and in ran Raoul de Chagny. He stared in horror at Christine lying on the floor before rushing to her aid.

"Christine!" he called, running a hand over her head. "Christine! Wake up!"

Christine's eyes fluttered opened. Without saying a word, she pointed a pale finger at Danielle.

Danielle raised a hand meekly and waved. "Hiya."

"Who are you?" growled Raoul, jumping to his feet. "What are you doing in Christine's room? Answer me!"

"I'm Danielle. I'm from the year 2005. I didn't mean her any harm. I don't know how I got here. Please don't kill me!" rambled Danielle backing away.

Christine and Raoul both looked dumb struck.

"2005?" Christine asked. "Impossible."

"Improbable. But I'm here. I've lost my friend. She's somewhere around here I know it. Please don't kill me."

"Hmm," thought Raoul. "Are you telling the truth though?"

"Look at her Raoul. She has the oddest clothes. She couldn't be from Paris."

"No..." he pondered. "All right then. We'll have no choice but to believe you then. What did you say your name was?"

"D-Danielle," she smiled slightly. "And you're Christine Daae and the Vicomte de Chagny. An honor to meet you."

"You know of us?" asked Christine asked. "How, pray?"

"It's a very long story."

"I've had my share of long tales, please, tell us," Raoul said.

"Well...This Opera house, the stuff that happens here, and, well, your lives are a movie from where I come from. I've seen the movie once, but I love it...And yeah...This is amazing," finished Danielle.

"Remarkable." Raoul said.

"Tell us more!" pleaded Christine.

"All right. What do you want to know?"

"Everything!" cried Christine amazedly.

"Well...I'm from America, you know, 'The Colonies'?" Danielle started, and the three remained in Christine Daae's dressing room, as Danielle told stories of her life and where she came from.

* * *

The Colonies'! Danielle's so good at history...Eh heh heh :P 

Ok, Im only postin' 2 chapters until SOMEONE, ANYONE tells me to continue. Next chapter: SINGING. Lol. It'll be fun! And whileyou read you can sing along! So you know what to do! Hit that button and review! (Ok lame rhyme, I know, but gimme a break!)


	3. They Can Sing!

YOU GUYS! I'm so glad you commented and liked it! Yay!I feel all warm and gushy inside...tear Heh...Anyways...Yeah! Must post more now. :) This chapter is a little longer than the last. Hope you like!

* * *

Elsa's eyes fluttered opened again-this time for real, as she had just woken up from a seemingly long sleep. She was lying on a bed. A very soft bed, she noticed. With red velvet sheets.

"Ah, Christine's bed," Elsa muttered.

A veil was drawn around the bed, keeping in the darkness of the room.

"This is insane...Next thing I'll do is start singing about..." She got up and lifted the veil, walking out onto a stone 'lanai'.

She couldn't help herself. Something about this place filled her with longing. She started singing:

"I remember there was mist...Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake...There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat..."

But she stopped herself and looked to her right. There, sitting at his piano was Erik. When Elsa closed her mouth abruptly, finally realizing what she was doing, and clapped a hand over it, he turned his head.

"Crap what did I do?" Elsa thought. She remained standing in her spot, her hands dropped limp from emabarrasment.

"Mademoiselle," Erik called, still softly, from his piano. "Come here, will you?"

Elsa bit her lip. But she walked slowly towards him, afraid she might be an idiot, continue singing and rip off his mask just because she had seen Christine do it 8 times in the theater. She vowed not to though, and clasped her hands behind her back.

She stood beside his piano nervously, waiting for him to speak again.

He studied her, thought for a moment, then played a piece of music on his piano. "You know this melody?" He continued on to play 'Think of Me'.

Elsa nodded. She loved that song. She could play it on her violin at home.

"Sing," he commanded.

It wasn't a harsh command, but Elsa felt inclined to do so. And she did. She sang, along with Erik's piano:

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye...Remember me once in awhile, please promise me you'll try...When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me..."

She looked at him as he played a musical 'break'. He looked up at her, still playing and nodded, asking her to continue.

"We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea...But if you can still remember, stop and think of me...Think of all the things we've shared and seen...Don't think about the way things might have been...Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned...Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind...Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do...There will never be a day when I won't think of you..."

He continued quickly, skipped a few bars of music and came to the last part of the song quickly, taking Elsa off guard, but she caught the music just in time to sing:

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we...But please promise me that sometime you will think..." She continued, to her ultimate surprise, the operatic notes at the end of the song. Then: "...Of me!"

Elsa took a breath and thought, "Wow."

Erik looked at her in what she found to be astonishment. But was it a good astonishment? Please please please be good so he wouldn't have to kill her.

"Your voice," he began after a long silence, "is truly amazing. No real lessons though, I take it? No, not from a real teacher. Your voice is good...What you could do with a real Master..." he trailed off. He stood from his bench and walked towards her.

"Don't faint again," was all Elsa could think. She focused on his face. Perhaps not the smartest thing to do. He was so very handsome...

"Another Margaurita?" he pondered. "A fresh face after Miss Daae?"

Elsa gulped. Too loudly.

"Don't be frightened, mademoiselle. No, indeed; be joyful. I'll be taking you on as a new student. What is your name?"

"Elsa."

"German."

"Bianca."

"Italian."

"Severijn."

"Dutch."

She smiled. Never had anyone known her nationality by her name alone. Erik was truly a-

"Genius," whispered Elsa, clearly astonished.

He smirked. "No, mademoiselle Severijn. Just a man...Now. Tell me where you're from, and why you are here," he said, sitting back down at his bench.

"...And I love to sing!" finished Danielle. She had been telling Christine and Raoul all about the future and her life. They were very enthusiastic and asked tons of questions about everything.

"Sing?" Christine asked. "Will you sing us something?"

"Uh...Well," Danielle stuttered, turning slightly red, "Ya see, I don't have any music and erm..."

"Nonsense," Raoul laughed. "You and Chrstines can sing a duet. Come now!"

"Yes, let's. You start."

"What song?" Danielle asked, still a little nervous to be singing with a Prima Donna.

"Hmm...Oh I know. 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again."

"Alright!" Danielle said.

"You start. Whenever you want."

Danielle paused a moment, readying herself, then sang softly:

"You were once my one companion...You were all that mattered...You were once a friend and father...Then my world was shattered. Wishing you were somehow here again...Wishing you were somhow near...Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here..."

Christine smiled and sang:

"Wishing I could hear your voice again...Knowing that I never would...Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could...Passing bells and sculpted angels...Cold and monumental...Seem for you the wrong companions...You were warm and gentle..."

Danielle, having more confidence, finished the song as Christine harmonized in the background.

"Too many years of fighting back tears...Why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again...Knowing we must say goodbye...Try to forgive...Teach me to live...Give me the strength to try...No more memories, no more silent tears, no more gazing across the wasted years...Help me say goodbye...Help me say goodbye."

"Brava!" cheered Raoul, clapping. "Very good! And I mean it Mademoiselle. You have a very beautiful voice."

"Yes; now I have competition!" laughed Christine. "You were wonderful."

"Thanks," said Danielle humbly.

"We should cast you in our plays," suggested Christine.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm. We're showing Hannibal again, it was such a hit in the fall."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Danielle. "Wait...Is Carlotta still here?"

Raoul scoffed.

"Yes," answered Christine rather bitterly. "But perhaps she'll take sick and have to cancel."

Danielle smiled and muttered, "Hope so."

Raoul laughed. "We should find you some clothes Mademoiselle-"

"Just Danielle."

"If you insist," he smiled. "Christine, you have a spare dress don't you?"

"Of course I do. Come along back this way. I'll help you with it."

"Ok cool."

"And we'll go shopping tomorrow afternoon!" said Christine, excited.

"Oh, COOL!"

"But first," said Raoul, "to supper, with our new guest!"

"America?" asked Erik, frowning at Elsa, who nodded. "Hmm...Intersting...Well, no matter." He got up and looked at her again. "Clothes. You need clothes."

"Darlin' this is all I've got," said Elsa. She rethought ever calling the Phantom of the Opera 'darlin'' ever again. It was a habit she should probably kick, at least while she was here.

"No matter. I'll go out and buy you some," he decided.

"Oh no, don't do that. Save your money. Use it to buy another candelabra. Lord knows you could use another one," she joked. There were a million...

"You can't go parading around Paris in those," he pointed out, tugging at her jeans.

She sighed. "I like ze jeans, sank you," she muttered in a French accent. "Anyway. I mean it. Just gimme a pair of your trousers and a fluffy shirt. I'll be good."

He frowned. "You'll be good at what?"

"Oh sorry. I meant I'll be...fine. With wearing your clothes. Come on, Erik. Can I call ya Erik? Come on Erik," she said again. I told you I'm you in my lifetime. And trust me, we're more alike than you care to think," she winked.

"Indeed." He placed a hand on his hip and pondered a moment.

"Alright then. If you insist..." He disappeared into a back room, and after a moment came back out with a pair of black trousers and a white ruffly shirt.

"Thank ya sir," she said as he tossed them to her. I'll be right back." She ran back into her room and switched into the clothes, then ran back out. "Where's the mirror? Must adjust hair and make sure I don't look like a complete idiot." She looked at him. "No that I think you look like an idiot. I just mean me looking like one because I'm a girl and a tad shorter than you and...yeah." She smiled and unveiled a mirror, examining yourself.

"If not for your long, curly, blonde streaked hair," he said, "and your tan skin of course, you'd resemble me."

"I'd need a mask..." she said, hopeful.

"Use Don Juan," he said, coming back from his room for the second time, mask in hand.

"Only if you'll allow me," she said, taking it hesitantly.

"You intrigue me."

"Ah," she said in reply and settled the mask onto her face. He had a slightly larger head than herself. Thank goodness for elastic or it would've slipped off. "By the way, interesting trousers you've got Erik," she said, adjusting them.

"You didn't expect them to fit did you?"

"No not that. These." She pointed to the buttons on the side. "Interesting. Yet very snazzy. You may not get these back."

To her surprise, he laughed.

"Whoa," she muttered, staring at him. "You laugh!"

"Yes...I haven't for a long while now..."

"Well, I will soon change that!" she said, taking him by the arm. "Let's go. We have to find my friend. The one I was telling you about? The one who's here in this Opera House somewhere?"

Erik nodded, a little taken aback by the sudden physical contact.

They started walking towards the gondola.

"Hey have I mentioned it's kinda drafty down here?"

"That's what the cloak is for."

"Hmm..." She spotted one hanging on a rack. "May I?"

"By all means," he smiled.

"Brilliant," she said, 'swooshing' it over her head and positioning it carefully. Hopping into the boat, she said, "Love ya man. I owe you one." She smiled up at him. She looked at the little gondola. "Did you build this?"

"Yes," he said, getting in himself and pushing off the little dock.

"It's amazing. I highly admire your craftsmanship. Especially all these candles. It's gorgeous down here..." she went on to say how much she loved the place, and how she must draw it when they got back.

Erik listened to her with amazement and thought, "No one's ever appreciated my work before...Ever..."

* * *

I shall post more, do not fret! But you guys gotta gimme ideas for stuff to happen next!Review:) :) :)


	4. Group Gathering

Brava to my reviewers! I just got an idea from Nota Lone to prank Carlotta! I could use that later on. Definitley I'm lovin' you all. ((But I'm not lovin' how I'm not able to indent or put little stars to signify the end of chapters! What gives! Sorry for any of the confusion it may be causin' any of you!))

* * *

Don't own anyone or anything Phantom related, except 2 copies of the 2 disc special edition CD soundtracks which I hold quite dear.

Dressed in a corset-fitted, flowing dress, Danielle paced Christine's dressing room, pulling out thousands of curling rollers from her hair.

"Stupid rollers," she mumbled.

Elsa tried not to burst out laughing; She was standing behind the tall mirror in the middle of the room, waiting for her oppurtune moment...

"Come out ya stupid idiot," Danielle cursed at the last roller, who was being difficult and didn't want to come out without a fight.

Finally after it was out, she examined her new hair and outfit in the big mirror. (Yes, the one Elsa was standing behind. "Silly blacksmith," she twas thinking. "Doesn't even remember this is a two way mirror...Doesn't even realize there could be someone watching her...!")

"Ooo I look like Chrissy," she said, pulling at a curl, then turning away from the mirror.

"Christine," whispered Elsa in a sing song voice. "Christine..."

Danielle frowned, thinking she heard something. She turned back to the mirror. "Nah..." she thought, turning for the door again.

"I am your Angel of Music..." sang Elsa softly. "Come to your Angel of Music!"

Danielle's eyes widened. The Phantom? Of the Opera? Here? She gulped, but didn't turn around. She was too scared!

Elsa pulled the lever behind the mirror, and strode out into the middle of the room, walking behind Danielle.

She sang again: "I am your Angel of Music! Come to your Angel of Music!" Then she tapped her friend on the shoulder.

Danielle whipped around and screamed bloody murder.

"JACK!" she yelled. "OH MY GOD!"

Elsa placed her hands over her ears as Danielle screamed again.

"Oy. Yes, 'tis me. The Phantom-Wait." She looked back in the mirror and saw the black mask on her face. She cleared her throat. "Yes! 'Tis me! Don Juan! Fear me!" She held her cape over the bottom of her face like Dracula.

"Wow," said Danielle. "I thought you were him! Rock on! You look so cool!""Yes well, you don't look half bad yourself, Ms. Daae," Elsa said, looking at her friend's dress and curly hair. "Beautiful, as I've always said you were," she smiled.

"Shut up..." she mumbled blushing slightly. "Am not."

"Tosh. Come 'ere and gimme a hug!" she said, holding out her arms.

"Ooo I get to hug the Phantom!" laughed Danielle.

"I am your Angel of Music, Baby," she said and purred playfully. "Now! Introduce me to Raoul and Chrissy. They're running down the hall to this room as we speak."

"Huh-?"

At that moment Raoul threw open the door and shouted, "Danielle, are you alright?"

Christine was soon to follow. She screamed when she saw Elsa. "Erik!" she yelled and threw herself in front of Danielle as protection. "Erik don't-!" But then she stopped. And stared at the grinning Elsa. "You're not Erik...?"

"No, Mademoiselle, I am not," Elsa laughed. "A tad too short. The voice isn't as low either, is it?"

Raoul blinked furiously, very confused. "Who are you?"

"This is Elsa!" Danielle said. "The one I've been telling you about! Jack, how'd you know they were coming though?"

"I have an accomplice..." she explained and nodded towards the mirror, which slid back to reveal the real Phantom of the Opera.

Raoul looked panicked stricken. "Is this a trick?" he snapped.

"No, Vicomte de Chagny. I'm here on behalf of Mademoiselle Severijn," said Erik, smiling at Elsa.

"He had to show me how to get her," laughed Elsa.

Raoul was still a little unhappy. Erik wasn't his best friend in the world.

Danielle realized this and said quickly, "Raoul calm down. He's not gonna steal Chrissy away."

"No I most certainly am not," defended Erik.

"Oy, sheesh, men," mumbled Elsa. "Okay anyways! Now that we're all here...What now?"

"Yeah," said Danielle. "How do we get home?"

"I don't know," admitted Christine.

"Any ideas Erik?" asked Raoul, who was seemingly over his angry, jealous feelings towards the Phantom.

"Alas, no. Elsa and I have discussed it and we see nothing logical that would lead us to the solution," he sighed. "But we did agree that she would stay with me...Until further light was shed on the matter."

Elsa mouthed to Danielle 'I love him!'

Danielle smiled weakly and thought the same thing as she looked at Erik. She had always, always thought he was handsome.

Erik looked at her suddenly. "Something wrong, Mademoiselle?"

"N-n-no," stuttered Danielle, blushing a little.

"Elsa stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "She thinks you're handsome."

Erik was shocked. No one would ever think he was handsome...

"Erik are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Christine timidly. "Elsa staying with you?"

He stiffened.

"Uh oh..." thought Elsa. She laid a hand on his arm, hoping he wouldn't lose his short temper.

"She would be welcomed here..." began Raoul.

"I think it's a brilliant idea. Plus, we've already decided," Elsa said. "Thank you for the offer, Monsieur de Changy." She nodded her head. "Will are you comin' with me or stayin' with Raoul and Christine?"

"Christine and I are going shopping in the morning," Danielle told her.

"Alrighty then."

"But pick me up later tomorrow evening would ya?"

"Erik?" Elsa asked. "Is it alright if Will here stays the night tomorrow?"

"Of course. If it pleases you."

"Thank you!"

"So now that that's settled..." Christine said.

"Now what?" asked Danielle.

"We could go to supper," suggested Raoul.

"Why do you always want to go to supper?" asked Elsa. "Supper, supper, supper, that's all I hear. Geez."

Raoul frowned and whimpered, "'Cause I am hungry..."

"You're always hungry," mentioned Christine.

"Tells you a lot about your cooking, sweetie."

Chrisitne gasped, "Well I never!"

Elsa and Erik laughed.

"Ooo he laughs. He's really hot when he laughs," said Danielle.

Erik looked at her, amused.

"I said that out loud didn't I?" she asked quietly.

"Aye ye did," laughed Elsa.

Christine and Raoul stifled a laugh themselves.

Elsa patted her friend on the shoulder and asked, changing the subject, "How 'bout a tour of the Opera?" But the subject wasn't completely changed. "With the world famous, one and only tour guide Phantom of the Opera?"

Still red from her previous embaressment, Danielle was slightly hesitant to comply to the offer. But she really wanted to go...

"Through the mirror then, Mademoiselles," Erik said adjusting his cloak. "After you." He smiled and held out his arm toward the mirror. They soon disappeared.

"See you in a while Danielle," said Raoul. He was farily anxious with letting the infamous Opera Ghost take the two young women into the night.

"Chill out Raoul," comforted Christine whacking him on the arm. "It's Erik."

"Yes, that's what concerns me," he muttered. "Hello, look what happened with you."

"Am I dead Raoul? Have I been ravaged or taken advantage of?"

Raoul winced.

"No I haven't. Because Erik is sweet and caring...And gentle-"

"Alright I get the point."

"And loving and sweet, sensitive-"

"Okay Christine-"

"And warm, and intellectual-"

"Christine!" Raoul yelped. "I'm starting to question your love for me."

"Oh Raoul," she sighed. "I do love you. But get over yourself. He's not goin' to hurt 'em."

"Fine! But we are goin' to supper, dammit. I'm starved."

"Always hungry," she grumbled behind him.

"Bad cook," he grumbled back.

"Bite me."

"Will do."

She huffed and grabbed her shawl, and they left the room.

* * *

About the later chapters. Do we want to makethis story a bit cheesy and put a love connection in? Danielle/Phantom? Elsa/Phantom? Or should we keep it all friendship? Keep the suggestions comin'.ALSO: Someone give me a plot I could work with! Anything! Something like "how will they get home?" or something...better...Aahhh! Frazzled! Don't know what to do! HEEELP MEEEE! 


	5. Shopping and Feelings

Thanks for all the suggestions, homey g's. I think I've got a pretty good story line set up, thanks to the help of all of you, including Ted! Yay Ted. So on with it then...

I own nothing, and sadly never will.

* * *

"Raoul!" Christine called happily, walking out of the Parisian shop and putting on her laced gloves. "What a lovely morning!" she sighed happily to herself, blinking in the bright sunlight.

It was around noon, the morning after Erik and Elsa had visited the dressing room. Now Christine, Raoul, and Danielle were out on the town, shopping to their heart's content. Well, more like Christine's heart's content. Danielle was tiring easily of the trying on of outfits and the testing of silk fans, while Raoul was just trying his best to keep up with them.

"Uh, Christine?" Danielle asked skeptically, appearing behind Christine.

"Hmm?"

"Shouldn't we help him?"

"Help who, darling?" she asked, oblivious.

"Me!" cried Raoul, storming out of the shop behind them, almost hitting the door on the way. He was carrying a large stack of boxes that reached above his eye level, so they couldn't see him glaring angrily at them.

Christine sighed, "Oh, Raoul is fine. He was the one who offered to help carry our things in the first place."

"That was before I knew what 'Things' actually meant!" he gasped.

"Oh, now Raoul," she smiled, standing on her toes and patting him on the head. "Only a few more to go."

"You said that 2 hours ago," he grumbled under his breath, tapping the cobblestone, agitated, with his boot.

Danielle chuckled.

"What was that, dear?" asked Christine, deciding which street to take next.

"Oh, I just said...Lead the way!" he covered.

"Right, dear," she answered, detached, beginning to walk down the street.

"Christine's a little...'Whoo-hoo'! when she's in shopping mode, I take it?" Danielle whispered to Raoul.

"A little!" he gulped as he began repositioning a few boxes-so he could actually see what was in front of him. "Christine!" he cried, beginning to run now, Danielle beside him laughing. "Wait for us!"

"Hurry along! Must shop!" was her rushed reply as she disappeared into another small, street-side store.

* * *

"Erik," Elsa said, coming out of her room the same morning. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Anything," he said placidly, cleaning his piano with care.

"How do we get home?" was the question, stated rather bluntly.

Erik looked at her and placed the cloth, nicely folded, on the edge of the piano. "I don't know."

"You have to know something. Anything!"

"I do not; I'm sorry," he sighed. "I've been thinking it over, and you mentioned 'time continuum vortex' or something of that sort, and I haven't read one thing in any book, paper or report about them. I don't know what you'll do."

"But...We've gotta get home somehow..." she said quietly.

He could tell this was eating at her and causing her distress. He hadn't felt anything for anyone in a long time, since he lost Christine, but to see Elsa looking so distraught struck him...He walked over to her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"It will be all right," he said.

"I know it will..." she shrugged.

"And you're welcome to stay here as long as you need. That offer hasn't been revoked." He tried a smile.

"Thank you. And don't think I don't appreciate you. You...I..." she stuttered. "Erik," she said, looking at him. "I love you."

Erik stepped back, shocked.

"I've always loved you. I'm sorry to be so forward, but I have. I don't care about the mask, don't even bring it up."

How did she know he was going to bring up his face?

"I love you as a person," she continued. "I admire you. I want to be like you. You're a genius. You'd never know how much I really envy Christine. She has your love," Elsa smiled. "I know it. But it kills me to know how much she hurt you." She sighed. "I'm spilling my heart out to you, I apologize," she turned away. "But...I just wanted to let you know I appreciate you, and I wouldn't want you thinking I'm just another person trying to take advantage of you. I want to be your friend." She held out her hand. "What do you say? Friends?"

Erik looked at her, and at her hand. Was she being serious? How could he trust her? She answered him.

"I know you don't trust people. I don't either. But I trust you. And I hope you can trust me."

Her hand still extended, he took it with his own and held it. "Friends," he said, smiling.

He trusted her somehow. As he had trusted Christine. But it was a better trust. He felt somewhere that she wouldn't betray him like Christine had...He drove the memory from his mind and bent to kiss Elsa's hand.

"Friends, Mademoiselle," he said again. _And maybe more, _he thought.

She looked at him and smiled. "Thank you Erik." Changing the subject suddenly, she asked something else: "Can I help you with anything around your home? Cleaning? Any way I could help keep the place looking as smashing as you always have it?"

Erik laughed.

"You could polish my violin while I continue polishing the piano."

Elsa's eyes lit up. "So you really play the violin!" she asked excited.

"Yes," he said, somewhat puzzled. "You knew?"

"Yeah. You're movie is also a book. And you play to Christine..."

"Yes, I do play," he said, steering the subject away from Christine. Any time he heard her name, it stung. "Why?" he asked, producing the instrument's case from behind the piano.

"I play. In fact, I can play 'Think of Me'," she smiled proudly.

"Can you really?" he asked, unlatching the case, and handing Elsa a violin that took her breath.

"Gorgeous..."

The instrument was crafted of sturdy wood, glossed with pitch black finish. A red inlay accented the curves of the violin.

He saw her excitement and handed her a tightened, ebony wood bow.

"Play."

"But...Can I?" she asked, raising the bow to the A string hesitantly.

He nodded. "It's already tuned."

She drew the bow across the A string and began playing "Think of Me" as Erik hummed along.

* * *

(I can really play the violin! Whoo hoo!) I finally figured out the ruler thing. GEEZ. Took me a while. sigh I'm an $$ when it comes to "technology", people, I beg your forgiveness. Love you all. Review, review, review!


	6. Who Would Do This?

People, people, people! I have an actual plot now! And in this next chapter, the plot thickens! It's gonna be so cool! Heh heh heh...Alright alright, I'm shuttin' up. Go on, go on! Read!

* * *

"Well Will," Elsa announced, bursting into Christine's dressing room via the big mirror, "I have perfected my voice to sound like Erik's-slightly higher, that is, but still -I can pull it off damn well, if I do say so myself!"

Through Elsa's speech, Danielle had jumped ten feet off the ground and ran to hide behind a large flower arrangement.

"What in bloody hell are ye doin'?" asked Elsa, confused.

"Dammit, man! I thought you were him-Again!" she said, appearing from behind the blooms. "Can't ya gimme some warning before you burst in on me? What if I had been dressing?" she hissed.

"I'm me, Will," Elsa sighed. "Let it go."

"Grr."

"Come on then! Phantom's expectin' us," she said, pulling her friend towards the mirror.

"But I have to tell them I'm leavin'. They'll freak out if I don't." She was referring to the de Chagny's, no doubt.

"Write them a note," suggested Elsa, pulling a pad of paper and a pen from her vest.  
Danielle frowned, taking the writing implements. "Where did you-? Why do you have-?"

"I'm a magician," Elsa whispered.

"You're insaaaane!" Danielle whispered back.

"And a genius. And an architect and a composer and so on and so forth. Geez, listen to Madame Giry why don't you!"

"Eh..." Danielle whined, scribbling down a few things on the pad of paper.

"Phantom taught me," Elsa continued. "He's really amazing. And we've become really good friends." She had decided not to tell Danielle how she had come out and said she loved Erik. She wouldn't know how to explain her forward actions, even though Danielle was her best friend...

"That's so cool Jack," Danielle smiled. "And Christine helped me hit those opera notes in _'Phantom of the Opera'_. We're really good friends now, too. Raoul's just..." she pondered. "Raoul's just Raoul, really."

"Yay! We have friends! Who are cool!" Elsa laughed, taking the pen from Danielle and scanning her note. "All right then...Hmm...One thing-" she said, scribbling some words herself.

Danielle looked at the new note and read: _"Don't worry, mon gars, we'll take magnifique care of Mademoiselle Danielle. Your obedient servant, O.G. JR."_ She laughed and placed it on the desk.

"Ah, wait!" Elsa said mysteriously. Then she pulled a rose-with a black silk ribbon tied to it-from the inside of her vest and placed it on top of the note.

"I love you," laughed Danielle, amused.

"Hah, indeed you do. Now come away with me, Christine. To my batcave-basement-lair-thing!"

Elsa said, whisking her behind the mirror.

As they walked along the dark corridors of the Opera House, Danielle started humming, then sang, _"In sleep he sang to me...In dreams he came...That voice that calls to me...And speaks my name...And do I dream again? For now I find...The Phantom of the Opera is there...Inside my mind..."  
_  
Elsa laughed and continued the song in her 'Phantomesque' voice, _"Sing once again with me...Our strange duet...My power over you...Grows stronger yet...And though you turn from me...To glance behind! The Phantom of the Opera is there...Inside your mind..."  
_  
Danielle stared at her friend in amazement, thinking, _Damn she can sound like him! Too weird! _

Elsa assisted Danielle into the small gondola docked at the edge of the lake. Danielle squealed, almost falling in the water.

"What, no horsey?" asked Danielle when she was situated.

"Ay yi yi," Elsa groaned. "You gonna finish out the song or not, sweetie?"

"Oh yeah!" said Danielle. _"Those who have seen your face...draw back in fear...I am the mask you wear..."  
__  
"It's me they hear!"_

"Your/My spirit and my/your voice...In one combined...The Phantom of the Opera is here/there...Inside my/your mind."  
  
Sitting at his piano, Erik could easily hear the two singing as the came closer to his "batcave-basement-lair-thing".

"Is she serious?" he muttered, putting down his quill and music. "Is the little nutter serious?" He was referring to Elsa. She had told him that she and Danielle frequently sang Phantom songs, but he didn't believe her. Well...he _hadn't_ believed her-until now.

"Sing my angel of music!" Elsa laughed, as Danielle sang her incredible, ear shattering octaves as well as any Christine Daae. The iron gate came up and they sailed into the lair with their little gondola. "Sing for me!"

Elsa lost her composure laughing and almost tipped the boat over as Danielle hit the very last one. Danielle whacked her in the leg and Elsa hopped out of the gondola and "whooshed" her cape off.  
_  
"I have brought you," _she sang,_ "to the seat of sweet music's throne/To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music..."_ She looked up at the piano and gulped/sang,_ "Hi Erik."_

The Phantom laughed and laid his head down on the keys of the piano, eliciting a loud mix of notes.

"Erm..." Danielle said, still sitting in the gondola.

"Brilliant!" Erik gasped through his laughing. He banged his head on the keys.

"Gee. Thanks," Elsa said sourly, picking up her cloak and dusting it off.

"No, no, no-Really!" he said, calming himself. "That was really good. _C'est mangifique!_"

Elsa bowed.

Danielle suddenly screamed, a loud splash following.

Erik and Elsa looked down at the boat and saw Danielle bobbing in the water. Upon seeing this, they burst out laughing.

"Heeeey," Danielle said, climbing out of the lake sopping wet. "Shut up Jack."

"Eh heh heh," Elsa said, holding out her hand to help her friend up.

Danielle squinted evilly and threw Elsa into the lake.

"Not the trousers!" Elsa squealed. She sighed and floated out into the middle of the lake. "Dammit," she muttered.

"No matter," Erik laughed. "There's another pair you can wear."

"You're wearing his pants?" asked Danielle. "Ooo!"

Erik frowned. "You really think I'm handsome?"

"Uh..." Danielle turned beet red. Again. "Yeah, uh huh..."

Erik grinned.  
_  
Awww he's so cute! _Danielle thought and smiled.

Elsa trudged to the shore and hopped up onto the stone floor silently, then wrung out her shirt and took off her mask, wiping her face dry. She looked at Danielle solemnly.

"Now, let it be war...Upon you."

"Ha!" Danielle said. "Loser."

"Ass."

"Shit head."

"Mother!"

"Alright, ladies, ladies, please," Erik said, laying a hand on each of their shoulders.

Danielle made a happy surprised sound.

"I'll go get your trousers. My trousers. The trousers I'll be letting you wear which are mine...?"

"Erik please go," Elsa sighed and brushed away his hand. "Always makes everything so difficult for himself, the poor dolt."

"He's like you!" snickered Danielle.

"I'd hit you, but you'd cry."

Danielle stuck out her tongue at her.

"Don't make me chop it off, boil it, and force it down your throat!" Elsa growled in her piratical accent.

"You know how to do that too?" asked Erik surprised, showing up, a new pair of black trouser's in hand.

"Of course! Pirate!"

"I thought you were a phantom?"

Danielle laughed.

Elsa sighed, "So many alter egos...Thank you," she said as she was handed her new clothes. "Gonna go put these on now. You guys think you can be here alone for a little while? Without kissing?" she teased Danielle, while she really wished _she_ could kiss him...

"Jack!" Danielle squealed and turned red AGAIN. She tried to hit Elsa but her friend had already retreated to her room.

"She's very interesting," mused Erik. "Like me, only much more..." he pondered the word. "Exuberent."

"Uh huh..." agreed Danielle. After a while, Danielle looked at Erik and said, "Sooo...How are you?"

"Fine thank you. Yourself?"

"I'm fine...Really amazing place you've got here."

"Elsa said you'd like it," Erik smiled.

"What the hell!" Elsa was heard yelling from her room suddenly.

Erik frowned and Danielle ran to the room.

"What the-?" Danielle gasped.

Erik ran into the room behind them and stared wide eyed at the room. It was torn up. The sheets had been thrown on the floor, the curtains were torn from the ceiling, the furniture was upturned-the whole room had been thrashed.

Elsa looked around at the room she loved. She thought of the time Erik had spent making that room emmaculate for both Christine and herself to use. She felt herself tearing up, so she turned away from the two of them, pretending to go through some things lying on the floor.

"Who would do this?" asked Danielle, shocked.

Erik clenched his fists. "I don't know," he muttered. Then he glanced at Elsa; he didn't see her face, but he felt her pain. "Danielle," he said, loosening up and speaking in a soft voice. "Would you go into my room, into my dresser, and find the spare bedhseets? Just look around for them. You'll find them."

Danielle nodded and left the room.

"Elsa?" Erik asked, kneeling next to Elsa when Danielle was gone.

She was crying. "Why can't people just leave you alone?" she whispered.

Oh, God, his aching heart. Her voice brought him close to tears himself. "Elsa...We'll straighten everything out...It'll be back to normal in an hour..."

She rubbed her eyes and sat on the floor, leaning against a wall.

"People just don't understand...People need to just leave you the hell alone..."

"This isn't all about me is it, darling?" he asked, soothingly.

She blushed at the name he called her. She loved him so much...But how did he know?

"What do you mean?" she stuttered, looking away from him.

Erik looked at her, studied her. "You've been hurt too haven't you?"

"No..."

"Yes. A lover, perhaps? Is it heartache?"

"No," she sighed. "I've never been in love," she half lied. She loved Erik. But she'd never had a real relationship. And she was 17. But she didn't trust men. She didn't want to.

"Ah," Erik mused. "Then people don't understand you, and treat you differently?"

She remained silent, thinking, _Hit the nail on the head, Phantom._

"You're intelligent and they don't like that?" Erik continued.

Elsa nodded, eyes watering again. "Why won't they leave us alone? Why can't we be accepted?"

_My God..._he thought. _She is like me..._

"I don't know. But they don't either. If they can't accept you-us-then we'll just prove our worth in other ways. It seemed to work for me...Until..." There was the subject of Christine again. She was accepting...But she went with Raoul. She loved Raoul. Anger and sorrow mixed in his heart, and he bent his head.

Elsa read his actions as he had with her. She placed her hand on his knee gently.

"I know. I hate that. You've been hurt worse than I have...I'm only 17...I don't know the heartbreak you've known...But I still feel for you."

His eyes locked with hers. She shivered. He had such a power over her. He was so...She had no words. Just an amazing man. And he made her feel like she was important.

He smiled. A genuine, caring smile. He raised his hand to her face and brushed his fingertips softly down her cheek. She blushed and looked down, but he raised her chin up with his fingers. He brushed away the tears from her cheek gently.

"No more tears..." he whispered.

She leaned in...

"I found the sheets, people! Have no fear!" Danielle announced, walking into the room with a bundle of cloth in her arms, obscuring her vision, thank goodness! Erik stood up and straightened his vest; Elsa rubbed her eyes and got up.

"Finally woman!" Elsa barked, silently cursing Danielle for coming into the room too soon. "Now! Let's get to cleanin' this mess up! And look for clues on who the perpetrator is!"

* * *

Ooo! What's gonna happen? Who did this! What's gonna happen between Phantom and Phantom JR.! (Heh heh...) Stay tuned and I'll have an update soon! (I hate rhyming when it's completely unecessary...) 


	7. Accidents

Crap you guys! Crap, crap, crap. I just realized, like the A$$ I am, that the Opera Populaire was burned down during Don Juan. :hits self with Phantom of the Opera book: Idiot :hit: Dolt :whack: Ok here's the plan. We pretend the Opera house was rebuilt, and Firmin and Andre still own it, and put on plays again...Yeah. Pretend...Yeah...This chapter, isn't all that funny...But don't worry! Humor will still make it's appearance through little things. I may change the Genre...Don't know though.

Disclaimer: Nothing and No One Phantom related. Thank you and Goodnight.

* * *

"Someone sacked her room?" Raoul repeated, after hearing the story told to him by Danielle. 

"Yeah. We don't know who it is and wondered you'd have a clue?" she asked.

He ran a hand over his eyes, thinking. "I wouldn't have the slightest...I'm sorry."

"Christine? Do you have any ideas?" Danielle asked.

"No...Poor Erik..." she sighed.

Elsa frowned to herself. _When was the last time she said that?_ she thought bitterly. "All right then. I'll just be off. I need to go speak with Erik."

"Bye Jack. I'll see you later?" Danielle said.

"Yes, of course. I'll come and retrieve you."

"When?"

"I'll see when we're both available."

"How will you know?"

Elsa smirked. "I'll know. _The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind,"_ she sang and disappeared through the mirror, making her way to Erik's underground home.

Danielle turned to Raoul and Chrisitne. "Are you sure you don't know anything? Erik's really distressed over this. He's afraid it's the managers' doing..."

"Firmin and Andre wouldn't do anything to the Phantom...I don't even believe they know he's still here," explained Raoul.

"Well it had to be someone!" said Danielle exasperated. She wanted to know who ransacked Elsa's room!

"I know Danielle, I know," comforted Christine. "Wel'll find out soon enough. I mean, whoever's done it surely wouldn't stop just there?"

"Yes, he must have a motive," said Raoul.

"But what could it be-?"

Danielle was interrupted by loud screaming from the direction of the stage.

Raoul, Christine and Danielle ran out of the dressing room and towards the stage, where they found a large group of stage hands and dancers gathered around someone.

"Everyone back away!" Madame Giry was yelling and waving her walking staff in the air. "All of you! Go on! Give her room!"

"Madame!" cried Christine, running towards Giry. "What's happened?"

"An accident," she answered grimly.

Christine looked past madame Giry and saw Carlotta Guidicelli lying on the ground, muttering Italian curses as a stage doctor examined her.

Raoul frowned. "What?"

"A prop fell from there," Giry said, poking her staff up at the rafters, "and onto her," she said, then poking the staff towards Carlotta.

"It's the Phantom!" shrieked one of the ballerinas. "He's back!"

"And at it again!" cried another. "He wants to kill us because we messed up his play!"

All of the other girls huddled together and sobbed, fearing for their (pathetic) lives.

Madame Giry shook her head and shooed the girls away to their rooms. "Go on back to your dormitories and take your rest. Rehearsal tomorrow!"

They scampered away.

"Madame Giry it couldn't have been Erik!" Christine whispered.

Giry shook her head again. "No it couldn't have...It's someone else."

Danielle's eyes widened. Did Giry know?

"Who Madame Giry?" she asked, hopeful.

"I don't know who...An enemy. He's out to ruin Erik. And to gain control of the Opera house."

"How do you know?"

"I have...Connections," she informed, a mysterious glint in her eye.

That darned Madame Giry. Always knew a little about everything. Where did she get her information? Danielle was begininng she was like Gandalf...Someone from another world who knew everything, but was going to be all stubborn and not tell the whole story. Darned Gandalf. I mean Giry.

"Now, Miss Daae," Madame Giry continued, "you will be filling in for La Carlotta. I'll be expecting you at rehearsals tomorrow morning. Along with Mademoiselle Danielle, of course," she smiled and walked away.

Carlotta glared at Christine from the corner of her eye having heard Madame Giry's news.

"Poor Erik," Christine sighed again(Which was starting to get at Danielle's nerves), paying no attention to the raving Italian diva behind her. "Everyone's out to get him..."

"Yeah," said Danielle. "But who could it be this time?"

_

* * *

"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance," sang Elsa softly as she rowed to Erik's home. It was strangely silent when she tied the gondola at the small dock. Usually Erik was playing some kind of instrument or writing something at his desk. _

"Erik?" she called.

No answer.

Already beginning to worry, she looked in her room, checking if everything was alright. Seeing it was still put together, she then moved to Erik's room.

"Erik?" she said again, louder. He wasn't in his room...

Walking past the piano, a piece of parchment caught Elsa's eye. Picking it up and dreading the inevitable, she began to read silently.

_"Phantom-_

_I am insisting you allow me the papers to the Opera Populaire and full management over it, along with your evacuation. Meet my demands or there will be consequences._

_P.S.: I know about you, Mademoiselle."_

Elsa shuddered, somewhat frightened. Who knew about her? And how? She shook her head.

_Like Hell, _she thought. _There's no way Erik's givin' up his home. _

But where was Erik?

"Don't panic, don't panic," Elsa breathed, walking around the piano, still looking down at the note.

Suddenly she heard something, a noise, like clothing swishing...She thought she heard boots and a splash, but maybe it was her mind playing cruel tricks on her? Hopefully. She gulped.

"Erik," she whispered, and took another step.

She stepped on something, then heard a soft groan.

"Oh God," she said quietly, afraid to look down.

Looking down, her heart dropped, and so did she-to her knees, beside Erik's still form. She placed a hand on his heart and felt he was still breathing, but very slowly.

"Erik," she whispered, close to his ear. "Erik, come on, wake up...I'm not a doctor like you...I don't know what to do here," she said frantically, placing her hands on his shoulders.

He groaned again and moved slightly.

She quickly took her hands from him, not wanting to hurt him.

"Erik, you've gotta wake up," she tried again.

When he didn't reply, she quickly ran to her room and grabbed a bottle of wine, bringing it to him. She raised it to his lips and hoped he would react somehow.

He coughed as the liquid poured into his mouth, then tried to sit up. Elsa supported his back and helped him caustiously.

He shook his head and wiped his mouth. "Very good year," he mumbled dryly, still choking on the wine.

"Oh thank God!" she said, hugging him.

He yelled out, frightened and surprised at the sudden voice and contact.

She screamed herself and fell backwards.

"Elsa!" he asked, catching her. "What are you doing here?"

Confused, she answered, "You said I could stay here, don't you remember?"

"Oh yes, yes, I knew that," he said, trying to stand. She hopped up and helped him up. Steadying himself, he swayed a little and asked, "What happened, Elsa?"

"I don't know, I was hoping-"

He rubbed his face and realized his mask wasn't on! He cursed and covered his face with his hand.

"I'm sorry!" he said, turning away from her hastily. "After you left I took off my mask momentarily to reposition it, but something must have-"

"Erik, please," she said, turning him back around and tugging his hand from his face, then holding his hand in hers. "I don't care! You should know that by now. Now tell me what happened. I'm worried..."

Erik paused, hesitant to stand in front of her, his face uncovered, but when she gave him an encouraging look, he faltered throughhis story.

"I was sitting at my piano when I thought I heard a splash. Thinking it was you, I called out your name, but there was no answer. I was afraid you were hurt," he mumbled, "so I went to check. You were nowhere to be found, so I made my way back to my bench, taking off my mask in the process. That's when something hit me over the head," he said, feeling for a bruise at the back of his skull. "I hate being taken by surprised," he said grimly, wincing at the newly discovered bump.

"Hmm..." Elsa thought. Realizing she was still holding his hand, she blushed and dropped it. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"No matter," he smiled.

They both sighed simultaneously, looked at each other and laughed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner to find you, Erik," she said. "So I don't think I'll have you out of my sight now. Something..._worse_...may happen."

"I assure you that won't happen again," he said, rather unhappy he allowed himself to be sneaked up upon in his own house. "I'll be ready next time..."

"Oh!" Elsa said, remembering the note. "Read this. I don't think you'll be too happy though..."

* * *

Interesting to say the least...Should I change the Genre? To Adventure/Humor? Or something? Arrgh I just don't know! But I definitely think the humor has dwindled now that I actually have a plot. Hmm...Tell me what you think. Thanks! 


	8. Gaston

GASP people. Haven't updated in a while. OK a DAY but ya know. Gotta keep up that 1 chap. a day routine! I'll try my muy hardest from now on yo. So...Go on and take a look at this chapter.

Disclaimer: That lucky of a Gaston Leroux owns all the characters...along with my Phantom:sob:

* * *

The headlines of all the Paris papers the next morning were all the same: "A New Terror of the Opera: _Another Phantom?_" 

"Uh oh..." mumbled Raoul, reading his paper over tea and coffee in his large, over-furnished home.

_"Shiitake..."_ Danielle said under her breath. "Well you know what this means people," she sighed.

Christine looked at her strangely, completely oblivious.

_Ah, poor young girl,_ thought Danielle._ So ignorant...so skinny...so bloody irritating sometimes!_

"It means," she said aloud, "damage control will be in order!"

"Huh?" Christine asked, still confused.

"Christine," Raoul sighed, folding up the paper. "It means we'll have to do something to make sure Erik isn't blamed."

"Oh! Well I get it now!" she said happily. "Ok! What do we do?"

"We go to the opera house," Raoul said, throwing on his cloak. "And we see what's up."

"Maybe we can gather all the morning papers up before anyone reads them?"

"At least we can get a few," Chistine said, finally understanding.

"Onward then, people!" announced Danielle. "To the Opera Populaire!"

The three made their way to the Opera Populaire shortly after breakfast, hoping to squash any rumors flying around the opera house.

Out of nowhere...

"Hey!" hissed a voice in the alleyway next to the front doors.

Raoul and Christine were already through the doors, walking into the foyer, but Danielle heard and looked around suspiciously.

"Hey!" the voice hissed louder. "Over here!"

"What the...?"

"Over here!" a young man poked his head out from the corner of the alley way. "I know what you need to know!" he disappeared from her sight.

Danielle frowned. There was no way in trusting him..._But_! she thought. _He was really cute...I can flirt and find out about whatever it is that I'm supposed to find out!_

"Hey, Raoul, Christine!" Danielle called up the steps. "I'll be right in!"

"Sure thing," Christine called back.

Danielle cautiously made her way to the alley way where the stranger had been.

"Hello?" she asked, peering into the darkness.

A hand caught her by the waist and another clapped over her mouth. Whoever it was began dragging her down the alley way. Once secluded in a far corner of the street, a lamp was lit, and the hands were taken away.

"Ssh!" the voice hissed as the kerosene flame brightened. Danielle was frigthened; all possibilties of flirting were out the window now. Not wanting to be killed-or worse-she began backing up down the narrow alley.

"_Non!_ Stop!" the voice called, running after her. "Sorry about that, but we needed to be alone. Listen: I know who's after the Phantom of the Opera-!"

"Who are you?" asked Danielle. "Tell me your name before I get the police!"

He sighed. "My name is Gaston. Don't worry! You needn't be afraid of me," he said, seeing the fear in her eyes. "I won't hurt you. But I know who is out to get the Phantom. I have tried to stop him myself, but my attempts proved pointless. He's very powerful...I need...reinforcements to defeat him."

"What are you saying? Why are you speaking in riddle!" asked Danielle frustrated. "Who is it?"

"Well, I don't know his name," he faltered. "But I know his appearance! And his plans to destroy the Phantom of the Opera and take over the Opera Populaire."

"Why am I talking to you?" asked Danielle, half directing the question towards herself. "You know no more than I do. Or Christine, or Raoul!"

"Yes I do!" Gaston said, grabbing Danielle by the arm. "He's a masked man...A cruel man...A man who needs to be stopped. He's, he's...Napoleon! Napoleon of the Opera!"

Danielle cocked her head to the side. "Napoleon?" she said, unamused.

"He's trying to take over the city, I tell you! And he's starting with _L'Opera Populaire!_" he said, pointing to the building.

"You're bloody insane!" gasped Danielle, trying to leave again.

"_Non, Mademoiselle_ Danielle!" he said frantically.

Danielle looked at him with wide eyes. "How do you know my name!"

"I work as a stage hand in the opera house," he explained. "I've been watching you practice for your performances...You're very good...And quite pretty..." he muttered, reddening, visible even in the low lamplight.

"Really...?"

"I've spoken with the man who's out to ruin the Opera Ghost. I've evenconvinced himthat I was on his side. I told him I'd help him...But I don't want to, not really! I couldn't betray the Opera Ghost like that..." His grey eyes flashed with misty sorrow.

Danielle's defensive mood-_and heart_-softened a bit, seeing him looking so sad...

"Gaston...Would you tell me everything you know?"

* * *

Dun dun dun...A new character introduced to the (carrot)soupy mix of madness! Didja like my homage to Monsieur Gaston Leroux? Heh heh heh...Next chapter A DINNER PARTY! Say whaaaat? Oh, you'll see! Teehee! Review, review, review! 


	9. To Trust Or Not To Trust?

Yay 2nd chapter up today, since last chapter was a little lean. And as you can see, I've changed the genres to suit it better. Tally ho and all that jazz, then...!

Disclaimer: Nothin' doin' 'bout ownin' anythin', can't sue me, Ha ha!

* * *

Leading Danielle into a small store room at the back of the theater, Gaston lit a few low-wicked candles, sat on a large wooden crate and began his tale.

"Like I said, I don't know his name...but the people of Paris call him _Celui_-The One. He's an egotistical maniac who plans to control the whole city within the next few months. He thinks if he can take over the Opera Populaire first, one of the largest and most reknown buildings in Paris, he'll be able to capture the people's trust and respect through terror."

Danielle was still hazy on the whole subject; was Gaston a man to be trusted?

"I met him while cleaning up after rehearsels one morning, a few months ago," Gaston continued. "I was the only one in the place-not counting the ballerinas, but they were in their dormitories, far from the stage. He came to me and told me of his plans..." At this he paused.

Danielle looked at him strangely, silently asking, _What's wrong?_

"He was incredibly frightening...His eyes glowed, his height doubled mine...He had a presence about him. An air of power. I had no choice but to accept his ideas and agree I would help him." He looked around nervously, afraid he was being listened in on. Then he turned to Danielle. "And now I regret it. So much. And I need your help."

"But what can I do?" Danielle asked quietly.

"I don't know, truthfully...But you know the Vicomte! Surely he could gather supporters of the Phantom? I'll trick_Celui_ into showing himself in public, and we can catch him in the act of his malevolence!" Gaston said triumphantly.

Danielle frowned. "You think he'd fall for it? I mean, if you say he's the powerful man he is...? I just don't see it working."

"We have to do something don't we? I mean, if the Phantom doesn't give into his demands-which I highly doubt he will-I think he'll do something big...Like bring Elsa into the matter or something."

Danielle jumped. "What?" she asked loudly. "How would he know about Elsa? How do you know about Elsa?"

"I told you, I know about you two because I work in the opera. But _Celui_...He knows everything that happens in the opera house...Perhaps better than the Phantom himself," he shrugged.

"I don't believe you," Danielle said coldly. "You're tricking me."

"You must believe me," Gaston pleaded, laying a hand on her arm. "Please. I may be your only chance. The Phantom's only chance." His eyes shone in the low light.

Danielle looked deep into his eyes, trying to read him, trying to decipher his intentions. Whatever she had "figured out", she hadn't predicted what happened next.

Gaston leaned in and kissed her quickly.

Daniellle moved away and looked at him strangely.

"What the-?"

"I'm sorry!" Gaston said, hiding his face. "You're just-You're just so beautiful!"

Danielle blushed. "No, I'm not. You'll find many other girls in Paris more lovely than I am. Believe me," she mumbled.

Danielle had never been one to appreciate or even accept her beauty, which caused all her friends frustration.

"You are!" Gaston said sorrowfully. "I was just...blinded by it. I'm sorry. Take your leave of me, since you dare not trust me..."

Danielle looked at him carefully. _He called me beautiful..._She smiled slightly. "Gaston," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn around.

"_Oui, Mademoiselle?_" he said, still sadly, his grey eyes sparkling.

"I do trust you," she said. "I'm very lucky to have met you. Now we can surely help Erik, and get rid of this _Celui_, or whatever his name is."

He smiled broadly. "Oh, _Mademoiselle_! You have no idea how happy you make me! Of course! We'll stop this madman, and save the Opera Populaire!"

Danielle smiled herself, and together they created different plans on how to 'catch the crook'. Danielle told Gaston all about herself, Elsa and the Phantom, and everything she knew about the Opera Populaire.

If only she had known...

* * *

What didn't she know that she should have? Do I even know? Who knows...But I can't tell ye anyway. :D I know you hate me. OR you could care less. Be zat way! Anywhozits...Iheart you all.

:) :) :) :) Review, if you please. :) :) :) :)


	10. Supper

Another chapter you guys! I was on a roll tonight! And I don't mean the dinner kind :rimshot:pause: No? Fine. Be zat way and diss my joke! Just go on and read you...Lovely people. Heh, heh...

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything or anyone, just as I didn't 5 minutes ago. (Do I really have to do that every chapter?)

* * *

"Raoul! Christine!" Danielle shouted, running into the opera house's foyer, searching frantically for the pair. "I have information!" she said breathlessly, finally catching them. 

"About Erik?"

"No! About the man who's after Erik!" Danielle said happily.

"How did you find out?" Raoul asked.

"I met someone who had met the man!"

Gaston refused to accompany Danielle to speak with the de Chagny's for he felt unworthy to be in the Vicomte's presence. After all, he was only a lowly stage hand...

Danielle then proceeded to tell them everything Gaston had told her. They were shocked at hearing _Celui's_ plans, and they were confused on who exactly this_ Celui _was. They had never heard of him before, at least not in their circle of society.

"Now that we've got some of that cleared up," Raoul said, frowning at the whole story-"

"What shall we do about Erik at the present moment?" finished Christine.

"Hmm..." Raoul thought. He snapped his fingers suddenly. "I know! Invite him to supper!"

"You and your supper," sighed Christine.

"That's very nice, Raoul," Danielle said, "but you and Erik aren't what I would call the best of friends..."

"Oh, tosh," Raoul scoffed arrogantly. "As long as the old chap isn't after my Christine, I'm fine with him!"

"I don't know Raoul...Do you think he should even make a public appearance?"

"It may be the only way to gain the Parisian's trust," Raoul said, shrugging. "It was only a suggestion..."

"Raoul is right, Danielle" said Christine. "Now, you go on and tell him that he's invited to supper tomorrow night. Invite Elsa too. And tomorrow morning, we can go shopping for something to wear!"

Raoul groaned. "Not more shopping!"

* * *

The next night, after _beaucoup_ persuasion, a little kicking and screaming, and a whole lot of "Damn you!" and "Curse you!" being shouted/sung, Erik and Elsa were sitting, side by side, at the de Chagny's dining room table, in their posh mansion, in the "ritzy" area of Paris, a little ways from the opera house. 

Danielle had forced Elsa to wear a dress, and Erik was always dressed up; he looked as handsome as ever, and Danielle couldn't help to notice. Neither could Elsa, of couse, but she was able to keep her emotions contained, for the most part.

At the initial "showing up" of Erik and Elsa, (both wearing the same look of detattached nervousness amid other feelings, such as anxiety and regret for being there) they were greeted as every other guest had been; a smile, a laugh, a little chit-chat here and there; all of which Erik and Elsa both were skeptical to participate.

As the night went on, though, people began to talk. Erik's white mask no doubt stirred some questions, and Elsa's manner of speaking as if she were "on an equal level as the men of the high class" created doubt and obvious unhappiness within the group-especially the men; "She acts as though she's a grown man, and what could she be? 18?" "She should learn to hold her tongue!"

After a few more rounds of this sneering and discontent, Elsa smiled politely, retiring to the back of the grand hall to talk with Danielle, who had been keeping the guests busy with news and gossip from the Opera Populaire.

"Will," Elsa said nervously, adjusting her fluffy pink dress that was really begininng to anger her, "I don't know about this dinner thing. Everyone's suspicious of Erik. And they don't seem to like me either."

"Oh hush up Jack," Danielle said, ignoring her friend.

Elsa sighed and leaned against the wall, scanning the room. She saw the de Chagny's upholding the cliche of upper class; she saw Danielle carrying around champagne glasses to various people and flirting with the young gentlemen; she witnessed Erik clench and unclench his fists now and again, either out of anger or sheer boredom.

Finally, dinner was called and everyone gathered round the expansive table. Courses were brought out, of course, one at a time, as in French tradition. This took a whole lot of time that Erik, Elsa, Danielle, and even Raoul-who was famished, as usual-didn't agree with.

Glances around the table, along with more stifled chit-chat ensued, until the glances became long, sweeping stares-both at Erik and Elsa, and the chit-chat became whispers laden with suspicion and arrogance.

A little while longer and the whole table was whispering, glancing and even frowning momentarily towards Erik.

"Who do the de Chagny's think they are-?" he caught a snatch of a conversation.

"-Inviting the likes of him-?"

"Why, I never!"

"Preposturous! A damn shame-"

"Indeed. And the little one-"

"-Just like him!"

Erik's temper-and blood pressure-was rising at every decibel of sound created by the guests. He gripped the arms of his chair tightly, trying not to let anger get the best of him; he promised Elsa to behave himself and refrain from using his noose on anyone...But it was damn hard when the woman two seats to his right was staring at his mask so intently that her spectacles had fallen to the bridge of her nose!

Elsa bit her lip nervously. Erik was tense, she could feel it. She placed a hand gently on his knee, causing him to jump slightly. Seeing it was only her, he nodded and smiled curtly.

"You're doing very well," she whispered. "Just a little while longer."

Someone down the table scoffed loudly: "Befriending a monster!"

Elsa's eyes widened-she knew what was coming even before Erik had leapt out of his chair.

It happened quickly.

As if by magic, the chandelier hanging, centered, above the table, came crashing down, shattering into thousands of tiny, sharp pieces, flying maliciously at the guests who were now screaming, scuffling, and tripping away from it.

As the guests screamed, Danielle, Raoul, and Christine all shared looks of horror as they retreated from the flying Swarovski remnants.

Elsa hid her face as Erik grabbed her wrist and was pulled somewhat violently and forcefully out of her chair and eventually out of the mansion.

He gathered her up in his arms and retreated to his sanctuary below the opera house, his chances at Parisian popularity utterly shattered, just as the de Chagny's Swarovski dining room chandelier.

* * *

Alright, that's the 3rd chapter up in one day! You all should be happy campers. And I ain't puttin' any mroe up, or even writin' anymore, lest I be gettin' another couple of reviews. I'll love you forever. AND I'LL GIVE YOU A COOKIE! So review, dash it all! 


	11. Subsequent Supper Discussion

Yay thanks for the reviews! You people like cookies don't ye?He he he. Even mention a cookie and reviews, reviews! I must do it more often. NEXT CHAPTER! CHAPTER 11! YAY!

* * *

"Erik?" Elsa said softly, not wanting to make him any more angry.

She was sitting outside his chambers, and had been for the past two hours, her ear pressed against the solid wooden door that had been slammed shut with a deafening roar.

"Erik, screw 'em," she tried. "They didn't like me either. I'm supposin' it was because I don't think or talk like a woman of this time period should." She sighed. "Story of my life. So...You wanna come out now? Maybe talk to me about it? Maybe...not?"

Erik sighed behind her, "I'm sorry about that ordeal..."

Elsa screamed and fell backwards from the door and into Erik's arms.

"Scare the hell outta me why don't ye!" she breathed, standing up.

He laughed. "_Je suis desole._"

"Hah!" she said triumphantly. "You laugh! What now?"

He smiled and looked down at the stone floor. "You do that to me..."

Elsa shrugged. "I'm a genius," she winked. "I know what makes you happy. _And_ I can relate. That's why we get along. I don't think Chrissy's been through that hell like we have."

"No...She's too young."

"Hey, I'm not an old hag either," she nudged him.

"No, of course not! But you have an old-_Pardonez mois!_- Mature soul."

She smiled. "Just what I love to hear. I'm 46 years old mentally, you know."

"I can see that, yes."

"So are we better now?" Elsa asked.

"It depends upon what you consider better. I'm never making a public appearance again. Ever."

She sighed. "All right, I'm with you there."

"And I'm afraid my...Uh...What I did back there..."

"Your Phantom Tantrum?"

He chuckled. "Yes, my Phantom Tantrum will cause some trouble..."

Elsa clicked her tongue. _"No more dark of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you..."_

Erik smiled again and took her hand in his. "To think I would ever smile at something the Vicomte sang to Christine..."

"I'm sorry...It just seemed the right thing to say."

"It was. You couldn't say anything wrong."

"I'm sure I could think of somethin'..." she said, thinking back on the things she'd said to make people despise her-even if it was on total accident.

"Elsa..." he said softly, looking at her. "You won't believe me when I tell you this. I've been debating on whether or not I should even bring it up. But..." He paused.

"Erik?"

He sighed heavily.

"I didn't make that chandelier crash from the ceiling."

Elsa looked at him. And frowned. "Wha-?"

"I didn't make that thing crash from the damned ceiling!" he repeated, this time yelling, his temper flaring again. Expecting her to run, he turned away. Everyone ran from him. He was so misunderstood.

But Elsa didn't flinch. She placed her hands on his hips and turnedhim back to her, looking at him.

"Tell me," she said simply, dropping her hands.

He looked at her, his eyes still bright with anger, his mouth set in a cold line.

"Tell me Erik. Don't give me that anger treatment. I'm not like everyone else, no matter how much you'd like to think it. I can be just as mean as you. Now, out with it."

He was somewhat taken aback, but didn't dare show it. He breathed out heavily and said, "Someone else set me up. They know I destroyed the opera chandelier, and set me up for this one, knowing they'd forever destroy my chance of social acceptance. The same person who found me in my home that night..." he stalked off,away to his piano.

She sighed and began to follow him. But, insteadof followinghim like an unwanted stray hound, she decided to sit on the stone steps at the edge of the lake. She sighed and ran her fingers through the water, causing ripples, waiting for his blood pressure to settle again.

_Bipolar, I tell you! First he's happy, then he's yellin' at me again,_she thought. _But no. I'll just sit here. Even if I have to wait all night..._

_Christine would have followed me...or fled..._he thought to himself, watching her from the corner of his eye.

Elsawas still dressed in her pink, flowing evening gown. No doubt it was ruined now, after he dragged her from thede Chagny'sand practically threw her in the gondola, sending water splashing into the boat, soaking her, as he just now observed. She must have been chilled to death by now...

He looked down, humiliated.

_"Befriending a monster!"_ they had said...

He _had_ acted like a monster. Why did he even agree to go to thatidiot dinner party! And besides, _he_ hadn't made the chadelier come crashing down, no matter what anyone else thought. Why did hemake a fool of himself and leave in such a hurry, making it _look_ like he was the culprit?

He shook him of his growing ager at himself, and instead made for an apology.

"Elsa?" he said, in a low sad voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked bewildered, looking up from the glassy lake. "You didn't make that chandelier crash on all those idiots."

Erik frowned. She believed him?

"No, I'm sorry I dragged you down here with me."

"Why would I mind?"

She shivered suddenly, catching a cold draft in her soaked gown.

"Because of that," Erik said, getting up and retrieving a dry cloak. He draped it over her bare shoulders, then sat next to her on the steps. "It wasn't appropriate to force you to come here with me, when I was the only one with an actual problem."

Elsa shivered again and subconsciously moved closer to Erik, wanting more warmth. He, in turn, also subconsciously, opened his arms for her to 'snuggle' into happily.

"Erik, do you think I wanted to be there?" she asked him groggily. "They didn't like me just as much as they didn't like you. In fact, they liked me about as much as they liked hearing they lost the war to-Wait. Never mind," she yawned, leaning her head against his chest.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her.

"You didn't lose the war to Britain over Canada. My mistake..." she closed her eyes, feeling suddenly tired.

He laughed quietly, wrapping his arms around her.

"Mmm..." she sighed happily. Wrapped in the Phantom of the Opera's cloak, wrapped in his arms...

At this thought, her eyes snapped open, but she didn't move from her position in his arms. _Too comfy..._

"Erik?" she mumbled up at him instead, wondering his reaction when he would notice.

"Yes, my dear?" he sighed. He had also closed his eyes, then leaned against the base ofthe wall at the lake's edge. He seemed oblivious to the fact he was holding her...

Taking her chances-or perhapsfollowing her heart?-she placed her hand on his, and gently ran her fingers softly along it.

He smiled and entwined his fingers with hers, massaging her palm gently.

Seeing he wasn't pulling away or being resistant, she smiled and said softly, "Nothing."

She closed her eyes again and, resting fully against him now, remained with him, wrapped in his arms for the rest of the night.

* * *

L _is for the way you look at me!_ O _is for the only one I see!_ V _is very, very! Extraordinary!_ E _is even more than anyone that you adore and LOVE-!_ Ok all right, no singing unless it's a Phantom song...But people! A little lovey dovey stuff in this chapter. Hope it wasn't too...Mush? Heh heh. At least there was no kissing...riiight?

Next chapter is...YOU SHALL SEE! ((That's not the title...O.o ...Just to clarify...))

Hey this time, if you review, I'll give you cake! But none for Barbossa, because Barbossa can't eat cake! He's cursed! ((Eh. Inside joke. Righto William?))


	12. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

Another chapter guys! Yay! Right? Yay, right? YAY!

Not an owner of the Phantom, the de Chagny, not the Daae, yet I do own myself...I think. O.o

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the ranch-I mean de Chagny mansion- guests were solemnly filing out of the house, disappointed and disgusted looks lining their faces. 

"We apologize for this Madame, Monsieur," Christine said as all of the frazzled and unhappy guests filed passed at her.

"Hah!" was the only response she got, as one woman tossed back her head in mocking.

Raoul and Danielle were in the dining room, carefully picking up the broken fragments of Swarovski crystal that lined the chairs, the table and the floor.

Raoul sighed.

"Why would Erik do this?" asked Danielle, utterly confused. She assumed Erik was over his chandelier crashing phase. _Guess not,_ she thought.

"I don't know," said Raoul grimly, cutting himself on the jagged glass. He winced and wiped the blood on his sleeve.

"Our social status is ruined," mumbled Christine miserably.

_That's all she cares about? Social status! _thought Danielle._ Oy mother._

"It will be all right, darling," said Raoul, resting a hand on hers. "We'll just explain we had no idea he would do that. Or we could say we didn't even know he was here tonight..."

"Poor Erik."

Danielle scoffed. "Poor Erik, indeed! Even if he did do this, you saw how they were all treating him! Like he was a monster!"

"Danielle, people of society don't take kindly to strangers," explained Raoul. "Especially strangers with masks covering half their face..."

"I'm going down there to find them," Danielle said.

"Oh-ho!" laughed Christine. "No you are not! Not at this time of night!"

"Christine! I'm, like, a year younger than you? Two at the most? I can go where I want."

"Well, I am still a good half-decade older than you are, and since you're here without adult supervision, you'll have to obey what I say. Not to mention I'm the Vicomte of Paris!"

Danielle sighed, not wanting to get into an argument. She liked Raoul and Christine and didn't want the two of them mad at her.

"All right, fine, you win. I'll stay here," Danielle gave in.

"Now, let's get this mess cleaned up, and then it will be off to bed. You can go and see Elsa in the morning," Christine said in finality.

"But, I didn't get my supper!" Raoul whined.

Christine glared at him, and he and his rumbling stomach went back to work on cleaning the glass shards out of the carpeting.

* * *

A rock clinked off Danielle's bedroom window in the middle of the night, causing her to snap up in her bed, frightened.

Another clink, and Danielle was up out of her bed, moving for her window.

_That better be Elsa, or I'm gonna..._she was thinking sleepily.

She opened the glass and the wind whipped in suddenly, chilling the whole room in moments. She shivered and looked down in the street, where she saw, not Elsa standing below, but Gaston!

"Gaston?" she hissed down, recognizing his lithe frame even in the pale glow of the street lamp.

He nodded and motioned for her to come down.

She sighed and nodded, grabbed a house coat and made her way silently down the stairs, making sure she didn't wake anyone up.

Once downstairs, she turned the front door's large knob slowly, making sure it was quiet, then suck out and into the front lawn, where Gaston was waiting.

Without exchanging a word, the two stole away to hide behind a dark corner of the mansion.

"What are you doing here?" questioned Danielle as he kissed her cheek hurriedly.

"It was _Celui_!" blurted Gaston in a voice no louder than a whisper.

"What? How do you know? And how do you know about what happened?" she asked, bewildered.

"Gossip and news spreads quickly through Paris. By early tomorrow morning, everyone will know about the de Chagny's dinner disaster."

Danielle fixed him with a perplexed look as he continued:

"It was _Celui_! I told you he was out to condemn the Phantom! If he can turn the entire city against him and force him to abandon the opera house, it will be easier for him to take over!"

Danielle frowned, not happy at all. "What can we do?"

"Tell me everything you know about Er-" he coughed, "The Phantom, quickly!"

So Danielle told Gaston where Erik lived, how Erik constructed the entire opera house himself, Erik's knowledge of everything and everyone and every place in Paris, and anything else remotely interesting she could think of. She also told him, at his request, what all happened at supper that night.

He nodded after each bit of information that he received, and after hearing it all, his eyes seemed to glow with interest. Or happiness?

"All right," he said, taking Danielle by the shoulders and speaking in a rapid hiss, "here's the plan! _Celui _is planning something bigger than this-I don't know what! I just know it is bigger. We must position ourselves near Eri-" he interrupted himself by coughing again. "We sit at the entrances of the Phantom's home, and we wait to see if _Celui_ shows himself. Then, if he's planning to kill the Phantom under cover of darkness-" Danielle winced- "we can stop him!"

"Okay," said Danielle hesitantly. "But...When do we do it?"

"As soon as possible! Tomorrow morning you must show me the two main entrances to the Phantom's lair, and tomorrow night, we can set our trap!"

"We're going to do this alone?" she asked.

"No, we'll have men behind us, trust me. I know people of this city who want to fight for our cause."

Danielle nodded.

There was a sudden rustling behind them, and they each turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of a towering figure-a shady character-with a gun drawn!

"Careful!" hissed Gaston, standing in front of Danielle and reaching for his own gun, pointing at the stranger. "Leave now!" he commanded at the stranger. _"Allez maintenant! Ou j'appellerai la police! Ou pousse!" _

The figure laughed and loomed closer, cocking his weapon.

Gaston lunged forward and, withdrawing a hidden knife, forced it deep into the man, sending him sprawling to the ground panting and dropping his weapon. In a moment, the man was lying still, face down on the lawn.

Danielle uncovered her eyes and looked upon the crumpled figure.

"One of _Celui's_ henchmen," said Gaston, wiping his knife on his trousers and hiding it within his sleeve again. He repositioned his gun in his belt again, too.

"What are you going to-?"

"I'll take care of it. You go on. Meet me in the alley beside the opera house tomorrow at nine-thirty."

"Gaston?"

_"Mademoiselle?"_ he asked, turning to her.

"Thank you!" she said giving him a quick kiss. Then she ran back into the house.

Gaston kicked the "dead body" with his boot and laughed, walking off into the moonlight.

* * *

All righty, lemme think of anything I need to clear up...There was a little French up there, whatever Gaston says. It just means "Go now or I'll call the police! Or shoot!" 

And I think someone asked me how Danielle and I got our nicknames Jack and Will. Well, I'll tell ya!((If you do't care to know, just scroll all the way down and read my review message))Apparentlythey'rebecause of Pirates of the Caribbean, but how we actually accquired and appointed each other the titles came about quiterandomly. It was one lunch period in my 7th grade class, where I was acting like an A$$ and jumping around and stuff. I decided to try and kick someone, but as I lifted one foot up to kick, the other one came up too, and I fell on my butt. I sat there a moment, then laughed hysterically. Danielle said I was acting like a drunk and therefore, since we had just recently discovered Jack Sparrow's addiction to rum, yelled at me and said "You're stupid Jack." The only retalliation I could come up with was "Shut up Will!" And there you are, that's the story on how our nicknames came about. For Phantom nicknames, it is simply that I act very much like Erik-emotional and misunderstood, bad temper-and Danielle...Danielle is just Christine! Ha, ha, So yay! Now you know!

REVIEW PLEASE! TELL ME IF I SHOULD FINISH THIS STORY OR JUST FORGET ABOUT IT! ((Remember, I'll give you sweets if you review!))


	13. Saying It Because It's True

Hi guys. A little frazzled at the moment. Tryin' to finish chapters and tryin' to get 'em posted. This one is a little shorter than the others I think, and just deals with two characters.

* * *

Erik woke early the next morning, his back aching. He winced as he remembered where he had spent the night-leaned up against the solid rock wall overhanging the lake.

He groaned softly and tried to stretch, but something disallowed his actions. He frowned and looked down. Then he remembered who he had spent the night with-Elsa.

She was still curled up in his lap, but she had shifted positions in her sleep so now she was facing him, her head against his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist; his cloak was still draped over her shoulders.

He grinned and dismissed his pain, then moved a hand to rest on her back. She smiled in her sleep and tightened her grip on him instinctively.

He smiled wider, and thought on the subject. He, the Phantom of the Opera, was allowing a woman to touch him like this. _Remarkable. And yet, I don't care...Because it's her..._

He closed his eyes peacefully, thinking...

_Of all the things to happen after Christine left me. Can it be true? Or am I dreaming? Can she really be here? With me?_

She stirred against him, nuzzling closer and breathing deeply, mumbling, "Erik..."

His heart jumped as she said his name, even in sleep. She had told him she loved him...But did she still? Had she even really loved him? He looked down at her sleeping form.

_So peaceful...So beautiful..._

He hesitantly raised a hand to her hair and ran his fingers through the brunette curls.

_Am I beginning to fall in lo-?_

Feeling his hand, Elsa opened her eyes sleepily. She was so glad there were no bright lights in Erik's home...Just candles. And roses. And music.

_What a romantic..._she thought, and sighed. She looked up at him. He was smiling; she smiled herself, closing her eyes again.

"_Bonjour_," he said softly, running his hand through her hair again, pleased with the new feeling.

"_Bonjour_," she sighed in reply, hugging him.

Then her eyes snapped open wide and she sat up, shaking her head of sleep.

"Erik! I-I-I didn't mean to-!" she stuttered, moving to get up, but his hand kept her from doing so.

"It's perfectly fine. Calm down," he smiled. "And come back here," he said, pulling her back against him.

"But Erik-"

"Ssh," he said softly. "Elsa I have something to say..."

"Anything, Erik," she said, still a little wary to be so close to him. Wouldn't he be unhappy? What about his Phantom bubble no one in the world had permission to pop, and if they did, they would be cursed to death(like Christine)?

"Elsa...I..."

Oh, the words were so hard to say! Even when he really wanted to say them, and mean them. After Christine, he couldn't help to be protective of his weakened heart.

"Elsa, I..." he tried again.

She frowned. What had she done wrong? She rested a hand on his, trying to get him to finish.

He looked down at her hand, then back into her eyes...

"I love you."

"Don't say what you don't mean," was Elsa's sharp reply. Dammit. She wanted him to love her...She loved him! But she wouldn't believe him even if he said he meant it. Why? She was an idiot.

Erik frowned, confused.

"But I do mean it. Why would I say something I didn't mean?"

Elsa sighed. "Caught up in the moment maybe? I am laying on you, and in your lap."

_Why was she doing this?_ he thought. _Ah._ He knew.

"Elsa, who am I?" he asked.

"Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, the Opera Ghost, the Magician, the Architect, the-"

He held a finger to her lips.

"And what kind of a person am I?"

"A man who is sensitive, honest, caring, kind, dangerous, brilliant, handsome, passionate..." She stopped. "You love me?"

"I love you," he smiled. "And I wouldn't hurt you. You know what happened to me; why would I wish that heartache on anyone else?"

She sighed. "You love me?" she asked again.

"I love you," he chuckled. It felt so good to say what he really felt!

She looked up at him, deliberating with herself.

"I love you, too, you know."

He smiled. He'd been doing a lot of smiling this morning!She was so happy. Really she was. Her heart soared at the thought of him loving her. But then she thought-

"Erik! Your back! You must be in so much pain!" she said, getting off of him.

He groaned. "You are right!" he laughed, standing up. "But, I wouldn't know pain; you're here."

Damn him, he was so sweet. She blushed.

"Erik what day is it?" she asked suddenly.

He thought, closing an eye in concentration. "I do believe it is August the thirteenth. Why?"

"It's my birthday, then," she sighed. Birthdays really weren't a big deal to her. Just another year older, she figured.

"Is it really?" he mused. _Now I must wrack my brain with something to get her...

* * *

_

Well, people did you hate it? I like it. I have to get the other chapters up tonight. 'Tis my goal! I'm listening to Past the Point of No Return, so maybe it will encourage me...?

GIVE ME SUGGESTIONS, PLEASE. Tell me where you all want me to go with this thing! I'll love you forever. :throws cookies at all of your heads:


	14. Waiting in the Corridors

Let's get one thing straight here, folks: NO ONE says another word about my friends, aka DANIELLE of the story. You say one more word about "killing her off", PrissyCat, and this pirate may explode. I'm askin' ye nicely this time. AndI mean it. Leave Danielle alone. Or how about just not reviewing the story anymore? You mess with my friends, you mess with me. So back off, savvy?

Now to all of you nice reviewers who I appreciate greatly, I still do, and I'm sorry if that up there bugged you. Hope you guys like this next chapter of the story. It's a leading-up-to kinda thing!

* * *

Danielle told Christine and Raoul she would be at the opera house all day, possibly all night, but left out the fact that she was meeting Gaston there, and not Elsa.

"Gaston?" she whispered, peering into the alley beside the huge building.

Gaston appeared from the shadows, out into the sunlight before her.

"Danielle!" he said happily, taking her by the hand. "Are you ready to catch our crook?"

"Yeah!" she said enthusiastically. "Anything to help the Phantom of the Opera. But hey, shouldn't we tell them that we're going to be casing his house?" she asked.

Gaston froze.

"No," he snapped.

Danielle frowned at his tone of voice.

Gaston bit his lip. "I just mean...We shouldn't tell him, because...he may worry, and get himself into trouble involuntarily."

"Are you sure?" Danielle asked, not swayed.

"Believe me, I know what I'm doing. We can't tell. Anyone. They'd grow suspicious and just get in m-Our way." He tooke her hand and led her through a hidden door on the side of the building. "Now, come. It will be a long day ahead of us."

Gaston led her through the many twists and turns and secret rooms of the Opera Populaire, only stopping to listen intently to the goings-on of the stage and dormitories.

Danielle, though she felt something for Gaston in her heart, couldn't help but also feel cautious and as if she were walking on broken glass as she followed Gaston through the labyrinth. What exactly were the two of them doing down here? What good would it do?

She was beginning to feel some remorse, regret for agreeing to help Gaston.

But each time he turned back to look at her, and those grey eyes settled on her, she shivered and felt she had to trust him. He saved her last night, didn't he? He told her she was beautiful; he kissed her.

Once they were in the correct place-according to Gaston-they sat themselves down in a long black corridor. Their only light source was a candle Gaston had brought down with them.

"Now what do we do?" asked Danielle, skeptical still.

"We wait for _Celui _to make his move," Gaston said grimly. "I know he will."

After another moment of silence, Danielle spoke again:

"Where exactly are we?"

"Well, with your help I figured out the most effective way to suit the plan. We're just east of the Phantom's lair. If we go left, we run into a secret door that opens onto the underground lake, where there's a spare boat hidden away to the right."

"You found all this out from me?" Danielle said, not remembering her saying anything about secret doors, and ceratinly she didn't mention this place. She didn't know about it!

"Erm," he paused. "A little research..."

"Ah."

"And if we go right, we go back to where we came from. So if anything happens, Danielle," he said, looking at her, "you leave and run for help all right?"

She nodded.

For the next few hours, the two sat together as they waited for their oppurtuen moment, so to speak. During the time, they shared stories and their philosophies. Danielle showed Gaston her lighter side, her sense of humor, which he found to be quite charming. He was taken with her...Something that may prove difficult...

Gaston proved to be a stubborn, adventurous person, much like herself, which made her feel good. Finally someone else that was like her, right?

Suddenly there was a loud echo through the corridor they were sitting, waiting in.

Danielle jumped, taken off guard. "What was that?"

"I don't know...Let me go and look, all right?" he said quietly.

Danielle nodded. This was their moment. She didn't know how it would ever work, but she knew whatever was going to happen would happen now.

Gaston crept to the end of the corridor and rounded the corner, disapearing, as well as the low light from his candle.

Danielle was left alone in the murky darkness, begininng to fear for her life. Why did she go along with his "plan"? Should she have just stayed at the mansion? Should she have never even looked at Gaston when he whispered "Hey!" a few days ago?

Her heart was pounding, and Gaston had not returned. Five minutes. Ten minutes. On the edge of tears, she crept along the corridor. Holding her breath, she looked around the corner.

Nothing there. No one. Pitch black, inky darkness.

She looked down.

A piece of parchment.

Squinting to the point of pain, she was barely able to make out the words, written in red ink:

_Your plan didn't work. I have him now. Give it up. The Opera Populaire is mine._

Dread washed over Danielle like as if a bucket of icy water had just been thrown on her. Now what? What would she do?

_"If anything happens...leave and run for help..." _he had said.

She _was_ running now, running...But who would she go to for help? And how would she asked for it? They were two young adults in the catacombs of the opera house, with no one as a witness, and now one of them had been taken prisoner or something by someone. Danielle didn't really know what to do, but she ran anyways-towards the de Chagny mansion, a few blocks away from the opera house.

* * *

So Gaston got kidnapped. Are you suuure? I think I'm sure. I think...Eh. I never know about anything these days. Review! And suggestions! ((NO killing off. Remember what I said? And don't be childish and retaliate by cussing me out in a review. You wouldn't want to look like a 3 year old in front of your peers would you?)) 


	15. Celui? Or Gaston?

Okay people, THIRD chapter up of the night, watch out. Ha ha ha. Go on and read it, go on, go, on. The author loves her reviewers! (Though she fears you are only using her to get your cookies...)

* * *

"Elsa, I need to go out into the city tonight. Are you all right with staying here?" Erik asked, draping a coat over his shoulders and taking up his hat. 

"Out into Paris? Are you sure you want to go? Can't I just go for you in the morning?" she asked. Why would Erik want to go _outside_?

"No, I'll go out tonight. Sensitive eyes you know," he winked.

"Well, can't I go with you then?" she asked. More like border-line pleaded, but we'll say "asked."

"No, no, no," Erik laughed. "You can't come, or you'll see what I'm getting for you! Oops," he said, covering his mouth with his hat. "You didn't just hear that..."

Elsa looked at him suspiciously. "What are you doing?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Nothing, nothing,_ mon ange_," he said, kissing the top of her head before turning for his gondola. "It is your birthday, isn't it?"

She sighed and said, "All right, be that way, Phantom. I'll be here. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting," she said dramatically.

"I'm sure you will be!" he called. And then he was gone.

"Dammit!" Elsa cursed. "I'm alone now. On my birthday." She looked at the piano. "With a piano!" She looked under the piano and her depressed mood faded away. "And a violin! Yay!"

She carefully took out the instrument from it's velvet case, rosined the bow, and made sure it was tuned, then commenced

She played "The Music of the Night" on his violin, still waiting for him to return a few hours later. It was amazing hoe long she could keep going with violin; she loved it so much. And she was so enthralled by her piece at the moment, she didn't realize anyone slipping into the lair from one of the back entrances...

As she reached a crescendo, she closed her eyes, thinking about nothing else except the correct notes.

E4, E4, E4, E, E2, E, C, E, C-

She heard a soft click behind her and whipped around. Her eyes widened with surprise as she looked down the barrel of a gun. Holding it was a man wrapped in a dark cloak and hood that covered his face.

"Up," he commanded. "Drop it," he said, pointing the gun at the violin.

She slowly placed the instrument and bow on top of the piano and got to her feet, not taking her eyes off the cloaked stranger in front of her.

"Don't move," he growled, drawing pen and paper from his cloak.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

He chuckled. "My name is useless information to you. Just address me as _Monsieur,_" he said, jotting down a few words on the slip of parchment.

Elsa slowly, slowly backed up, away from him. There was a secret door in her room somewhere. If only she could get there without him noticing...But she would have to make it up the steps first.

_If he wants me to go with him, he won't shoot, _she thought. _But if he just wants me dead..._that would be another matter.

Up one step, then another, and another-

"You don't expect to make it all the way to your room without my noticing?" he said grimly, his back still turned to her.

She took this as her cue to run. She bolted up the rest of stone steps and into her room, trying to remember where the blasted door was!

_Damn Erik for being so good at hiding things!_ she cursed.

He was soon in the room behind her, draping the curtains closed behind him.

"_Non, Mademoiselle_. There's no point in this," he said.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, still looking for the door out of the corner of her eye.

"You are going to help me kill Erik," he said simply, making his way towards her.

"So Danielle was right?" she thought out loud. "You're the one who's after him? And after Paris?"

He laughed coldly. "Yes, I am _Celui_, The One, who Danielle told you about. The one Gaston told her about!" he laughed again, shrilly. "Have you guessed yet, Elsa?" he asked, then threw off his hood. "I am Gaston!" he laughed, grabbing her arm tightly and twisting it around behind her so she was forced to turn around, wincing in pain. He held his other hand to her neck, threatening to choke the life out of her.

"I knew it!" she strained against his tight grip. "Why did Danielle trust you?"

"I kissed her!" he explained, laughing like a madman. "And she fell for everything!"

Elsa continued struggling with him but, like Danielle had mentioned before, he was strong.

"Give it up, _Mademoiselle_," he said, slapping her hard across the face with his pistol.

She shook her ringing head and tried to see straight, but he choked her until she was barely able to move or breathe, much less continue to fight him off.

"Before we go," he said, throwing her against the bed, knowing she hadn't the strength to go anywhere, "let's do some redecorating," he smirked and ran his hand down a panel of curtains, tearing them quickly to the ground.

Elsa swallowed with difficulty and thought painfully, _Not again..._"So it was you the first time, too?" She struggled the sentence.

"Of course it was," he said, tipping over the furniture and throwing pillows around.

When he was satisfied with his destruction, he tossed the note he had previously written on the bed, grabbed Elsa by the wrist and dragged her out of the room, out of Erik's underground home, and out into the darkness of the city, where he would be hidden until next time-Until the right time to strike again, and finish his plan of conquest.

* * *

Erik sensed something as he walked back towards the _Opera Populaire_ late that night. Something wasn't right... 

His first reaction: _Elsa._ His second reaction: T_he opera house._ The two thoughts together made his stomach flip with fear, and he quickened his pace, tipping his hat lower across his face and mask, hiding himself from the few passer-by's on the Parisian boulevards.

Another sharp pang in his chest, and he wrapped his cloak tightly around him, gripped his brown paper packages tightly,and set off at a run. He was running back to his home, back to Elsa.

There wasn't anything wrong. He would get out of the gondola to see Elsa sitting at the piano bench playing the violin...Waiting for him...

"Elsa?" Erik yelled, hastily climbing out of the gondola, not bothering to take up the packages and leaving them there.He splashed through the shallow lake and ran up to her room."Elsa? No..."

Her room had been thrown into disarray again. But this time, a note was laid on the undone bed, on top of the tangled sheets.

_"I have her, Phantom of the Opera. And you won't get her back until I get the Opera Populaire. Further arrangements will be made soon. Good night." _

Erik crumpled the paper in his hand and shoved it in his vest pocket, storming out of the room. Knocking over a candelabra, he began to feel his heart weigh heavily in his chest. Another woman he cared for gone, right out from under him. This time he wouldn't lose her. He'd get Elsa back. Even if it meant giving up the opera house, his home, his life...

Right now, though, he was on his way to the de Chagny's mansion, a few blocks away from the _Opera Populaire_.

* * *

Gosh darn it, I've been kidnapped. And yes, you were all right. Gaston is the bad guy. My story is such a cliche! I love it! And you all do too! Or you wouldn't be off reviewing RIGHT NOW :hint:hint: 


	16. News for the Vicomte

Poor me, kidnapped on my bloody birthday. Don't ask me how old I am, I can't remember. Ha ha ha.

So...Erik and Danielle are off to the de Chagny mansion, but who will get there first? Does it really matter? I guess not...But read it, read it!

* * *

Erik rapped on the de Chagny's door hurriedly.

Raoul appeared on the interior side, rubbing his eyes; it was the middle of the night!

_"Monsieur?"_ he asked groggily._ Please don't be another angry citizen of Paris come to yell at me for my dinner disaster!_

"Let me in de Chagny!" yelled Erik.

"Erik?" asked Raoul surprised, stepping out of the way as Erik stormed past him.

"Someone's taken her. I want her back," he said, throwing his hat from his head and smoothing his hair.

"What?"

At that moment, Danielle burst through the door, the door, of course, hitting Raoul in the back on the way.

"Danielle?" he asked, rubbing his new bruise. "What in Heaven's name are you doing arriving home at this late hour!"

"Erik!" screamed Danielle, caught off guard by the looming black figure who was the Phantom of the Opera behind Raoul.

Erik looked grim and cold-and angry. Danielle gulped. "What's going on?"

"Elsa has been taken from me," growled Erik, clenching his fists. "And I want her back."

Danielle's face acquired a look of horror. Elsa kidnapped too? After Gaston?

"Elsa? By who?" asked Raoul, finally awake. But now, his stomach began rumbling, so it would possibly act a hindrance to his clear thinking.

"I don't know, but I want her back!" yelled Erik, causing Danielle to jump.

"How do you know?" she asked, trying to save herself from going into hysterics.

"Because of this," Erik answered through gritted teeth, shoving a crumpled piece of parchment into her hands.

Danielle unfolded it and read the short note. She began to cry.

"We were trying to help you! And now both of them are gone!" she sobbed, holding her hands to her face.

"What?" snapped Raoul and Erik at the same time.

"Gaston-"

"Who?" asked Raoul.

"The man I met who knew about the person who was causing Hell for Erik...The one who tore up Elsa's room!"

Erik clenched his jaw shut. His temper was about to explode again. He wanted details, and he wanted them now.

"What do you mean," he asked in a low, dangerous whisper, "he knew who did those things?"

Danielle whimpered, frightened. "He knew...He met the man who did it..."

"Who was it!" roared Erik, taking hold of Danielle's shoulders.

"He didn't know his real name!" cried Danielle. "He just knew him by the title _Celui_!"

Erik released her, practically shoving her back into Raoul's arms. Who the hell is Celui?

"Erik, calm down-"

Wrong thing to say, Vicomte.

"Calm down?" Erik bellowed. "No! Why should I?"

"Erik!" Danielle said, unhappily. "We'll find her, we have to!"

Erik glared, considering knocking something over in his blind rage. But he thought on something and reconsidered his destructive idea.

"I was hoping," he said quietly, "you would know something about this _Celui_, you being the Vicomte of the city of Paris. You should know everything and everyone in it, am I correct?" He was hopeful and therefore a tad bit calmer, but still his anger presented itself.

"_Celui_?" asked Raoul to Danielle, who nodded. "_Celui_..." He pondered a bit. "I may have heard the name tossed around somewhere..."

Erik stood rigid, waiting for Raoul to say something along the lines of "I know exactly who he is and I know where he lives! Let's go kill him!" but the words never came. Instead, the Vicomte sighed heavily and helf his hand to his head, still thinking.

"I can ask around tomorrow...Question a few people..." Raoul said.

"What do we do tonight?" asked Danielle in a small voice.

"We wait," Raoul said.

The words obviously angered Erik even more, because he picked up his hat almost mechanically and set it on his head.

"Well, if none of you are going to take any action tonight," he said sternly, not looking at either of them, "I'll be taking my leave."

"Erik, we'll start first thing tomorrow. Don't worry," tried Raoul. Oh, his damned stomach! How he wished for a sandwich...

Erik merely pushed aside the Vicomte and Danielle, and left the de Chagny mansion.

"Where do you think he'll go?" asked Danielle.

"Hopefully not trying to find Elsa by himself," answered Raoul sorrowfully. He was sad to hear Elsa was gone...But he did need sustinence.

Danielle sighed and made her way heavily to her room, thinking, _First Gaston, now my best friend-Now Elsa. _

She fell asleep quickly, tears in her eyes.

Erik, on the other hand, didn't have that easy of a time finding rest. Instead of going searching for Elsa, he returned to his home under the opera house.

He removed the packages he had recently bought from the gondola and placed them on the piano, tears in his eyes. They were all for her...But she wasn't there to accept them. She was gone. With heavy heart and mind, he made his way to her bedroom and cleaned up a little.

Late in the night, after he had the room looking emmaculate again, he collapsed on her bed from physical and mental exhaustion, and sang himself into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Awww Erik...How I love him. And about that...To IndiaPyro: I know it's not an infatuation. I don't know how to explain it, but its just a feeling you'll have to trust me on. After seeing Phantom of the Opera and reading the book, I really started to understand myself and what my passions are...I may not be as extreme as Erik about those passions, but we've got them in common, and I do believe I love him. I may not marry him, but he'll always have a place in my heart, you know?

Review you guys. I'm already at 76 and I'm so thankful to you all! HUGS ALL AROUND! Yeah, yeah, and the twinkies, cupcakes, cookies and other forms of sugar.


	17. A Lake and Some Stairs

Well this chapter is a little different...It's not really as humorous...Though what humor there was is dwindling. I hope you still like this story, people! I like it. It's become more...real-ish in it's later chapters. In this chapter, there's a "large" bit with no talking. There's a few "philosophical" ideas...But really not. It could just all be crap. Haha. We'll see.

* * *

The next morning, Raoul kept his word and asked around the city for information on the_ Celui_ fellow Danielle informed him of. And, sure enough, he was able to find out a few important details that would hopefully lead them to him. Now, he was off to find Erik...Somehow. He remembered the last time he tried to get into Erik's home, by way of the winding staircase. And as we all remember, it didn't quite work.

"I know how to get down there..." Christine said after she heard the story of Erik's visit.

"You do!" exclaimed Raoul and Danielle together.

"Tell us!" pleaded Danielle.

"Well...I'm not exactly sure..." she said slowly. "But...There is a gate at the edge of the lake."

_Why is Christine being hesitant? This is a life and death situation!_ thought Danielle.

"Christine?" prodded Raoul.

"Oh, um...Yes, there's a gate by the north edge of the lake...But you'll have to look carefully for the spare gondola; it's somewhere to the right, I think at least. Oh, and then there is a flight or two of steps." She told them this quickly, as if she hadn't wanted to tell them to begin with.

"Christine, are you well?" asked Raoul, concerned.

"Yes, yes, of course Raoul. It's just been so long...and..."

"And?" he asked.

"And nothing Raoul," she sighed. "Please, go. Erik will want to know what you found out."

With a confused look still on his face, Raoul bid Christine good afternoon and left for the opera house, and for Erik, Danielle by his side.

"What's wrong with her?" he mumbled on their way.

"I don't know," answered Danielle. "But it was as if she didn't want us to know; as if she didn't want Erik to get our information."

"Hmm..." he said grimly. "I do believe Christine misses Erik."

"Misses him? It's not like she never sees-"  
"She probably regrets choosing me," he said.

"Oh, Raoul. Don't be silly. Christine loves you."

"Yes, but she'll always have a place in her heart reserved for the Phantom; a place my love will never reach I suppose..." He sighed and tipped his hat lower on his head. "No matter..."

Danielle looked at him sadly. Christine had made a mistake, that was obvious to Danielle at least, but at least Erik had moved on. A little ironic really. Erik was obsessed over Christine for so long, and yet he was able to find another love, while Christine dwelled in her lost love. Perhaps she loved neither Raoul nor Erik; perhaps she just wanted whatever or whoever she couldn't have.

But enough with the philosophy! For now...

"North side...Edge of lake..." mumbled Raoul, walking past the foyer and to the lake. "By Napoleon, she's right," he said.

In front of them was a tall iron gate. But how to get in?

"Climb over I suppose," Danielle said. "Since the managers aren't in at this time of the day."

"All right. You or me first?"

"Give me a boost, would you? Then we can see if there's a way to unlock it from the inside."

Raoul nodded and helped Danielle up and over the gate. Easily as that, Danielle found the lock and simply_ unlocked_ it, allowing the Vicomte entrance.

Raoul was still pondering Christine's strange mood, Danielle could tell, because he was quiet throughout their search for the spare gondola. Finally seeing it in the mist and gloom, they rowed out into the middle.

"They say," Raoul said a bit mysteriously, his eyes as glassy as the lake itself, "this lake is haunted; that the Phantom of the Opera sings anyone who dares try and cross the lake to their death..."

"Erik wouldn't do that," Danielle defended.

"Or would he?" Raoul said quietly, observing a sudden ripple in the water to their right.

Danielle wondered why the de Chagny's were acting so strangely over this ordeal. Ever since Elsa had been taken away, no one was the same.

The answer of course, was simple. Christine-who had always been somewhat shallow, innocent and unlearned at least when it came to experience because she had spent her whole life in the opera house, no where else-was jealous of Elsa! who had gained Erik's love so seemingly easy. Christine wanted Erik to be hers again, as he once was...But, because of her foolish pride and vain air, she had chosen Raoul, the Vicomte of Paris, instead of the "lowly" and "insufferable" Opera Ghost. Now, though, after seeing the way Erik cared for Elsa, Christine was beginning to hear that green devil in the back of her mind, condemning her decision for the Vicomte, and cursing her for letting Elsa have Erik so easily.

It's sad the way the world works...No one happy with what they have; jealous and greedy souls who despise others for their "prosperity."

Christine, due to her jealousy, became more and more detached with others, including her own husband and therefore, put Raoul in a position where he began to believe he wasn't ever going to be good enough for Christine, even when he loved her more than imaginable.

So really, it's a chain reaction. Erik shows his feelings for Elsa; Christine learns about them and becomes jealous; then Raoul feels he could never give Christine what she really wants.

The boat ride was silent because Danielle was figuring all this out, and when they finally got the opposite shore, the only thing shared between them was a sigh. Of relief, maybe, for crossing the lake finally; or of a plain mix of emotion about Christine.

Raoul looked hesitantly down the few flights of stairs they were to traverse.

"Bad experience," he muttered, seeing Danielle's annoyance. "Just give me a moment."

Summoning up his courage-and persuading Danielle to go first-he began the journey down. Danielle hummed_ "The Phantom of the Opera" _while Raoul watched his feet nervously, waiting for any sign for anything that would cause him to fall...

Every step down made it the more difficult to think straight, though. Even Danielle couldn't finish her hummed verses half the time, it was getting so cold. They shivered and continued on, growing ever closer to Erik's lair.

"I think...We're here?" said Danielle skeptically, finally arriving at the bottom of the last flight of steps. But there was no lake home. Just...A wall?

"Knowing Erik, and hearing the stories about him," Raoul said, placing his hands on the wall, "he's hidden it somewhere. Start feeling around."

"And I, also knowing Erik, don't think he would make it as easy as this," she complained, but ran her hands along the craggy wall.

Raoul sighed-still thinking of Christine!

"All right, now what?" Danielle asked, giving up.

"We go back to the beginning. How about we try Christine's dressing room?" asked Raoul.

"No. Lever is behind the mirror, and you can only get to it from Erik's side."

"Clever bastard..." grumbled Raoul, under his breath.

"Did you need something, _Monsieur le Vicomte?_" asked a cool voice behind them. "Because I am sure you won't make any progress by groping at my wall."

They turned to find Erik watching them.

Danielle made note that he was wearing nothing but a pair of black trousers and a loose white shirt.

_How could he not be cold!_ she thought. _It's freezin' down here. _

Raoul sighed relieved it wasn't Celui, or whoever it was...

"I'm glad it's you Erik. We have some news!" Raoul said.

"Either tell me you have killed _Celui_, or that you've already gotten her back, or I would rather not hear it," Erik said grimly, somehow magically moving a section of the wall away and walking through to the Louis-Phillipe room in his home.

Danielle and Raoul looked at each other amazed, then followed him in, Raoul stuttering: "Well we didn't exactly do any of those things, but I think I may have found out where _Celui_ is!"

"You think, Vicomte, or you know?" Erik asked, placing himself in a large red velvet arm chair, and placing his head in hands.

"I...think..." Raoul said hesitantly.

Erik sighed. "Tell me what you think, then, Monsieur."

Raoul extracted a paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Erik.

"That's what I've heard from the locals. They say _Celui _is just a young boy who is out to take over the world, and he doesn't know hardly anything of anything at all. And supposedly, he lives on the other side of the city, in a flat," said Raoul as Erik read.

"Then we'll pay this _boy_ a visit," said Erik. "And teach him not to play around with grown men."

Erik rose from his chair and reached for his coat and cloak.

"Wait, Erik," Raoul said. "I don't know if it's such a good idea..."

"And why not?" Erik snapped.

"I just got this information this morning...And if we mysteriously showed up at this boy's house, wouldn't there be some suspicion?"

"Who gives a damn about suspicion!" Erik yelled.

"The police, Erik," said Danielle.

Erik heaved a sigh. They were right. The Opera Ghost killing in broad daylight...Wouldn't be a good thing.

"Fine," he said. "I'll wait."

Both Raoul and Danielle heaved a sigh of relief.

"But I will kill him," Erik vowed, sitting back down. "I will."

* * *

So Christine is being gay (haha) and Raoul is too (haha!) and Erik is just not happy about "what's-his-face." Not a bad chapter...But different, eh?

Review it even if ya hate it! I'm taking requests on what you guys want sugar-wise too. gets out notepad and quill Fire away!

Next chapter: More about _Celui._ I think. :) :) :)


	18. Stupid Chair

Dun, dun, dun! I return! Thank you reviewers::bows: I love thee, I love thee all! Thou. You people. Whateva! So here's another chapta. I've been so gosh darn busy. So much writing going on in my life, so much stress and agony. Hah. Happy reading!

* * *

Elsa opened her eyes slowly, blinking in the dim light, coughing at the damp and dreary atmosphere that made breathing difficult. She groaned as she felt the newly formed bruises she had attained. Oh, and did she have a headache!

"Damn," she cursed, letting her head droop and all her limbs go limp. Not like it was going to matter, she wasn't going to fall over or anything. She was tied to a chair.

"Finally awake are we?" came a harsh voice from a corner of the room.

She squinted in the dim light. Yup, there was somebody over there, leaning against the wall...Oh yeah-

"_Celui_," she whispered, tilting her head up. Her hair was a tangled mass of curls and half obscured her vision. Hair tie anyone?

"Ah, you remember me," he smirked, moving closer.

"You know," she slurred, still half asleep and in pain, "you're not too good at this kidnapping thing are you?"

_Celui_ raised an eye brow. He tied her up didn't he? What else was he supposed to do?

"You don't kidnap a friend of Erik's."

"But I have," he sat, patting her head.

"And you'll pay," she said simply. "You're own damn fault."

_Celui_ grimaced. "What do you think you're precious Phantom is going to do about getting you back? Unless he hands over the Opera Populaire, you're...well, dead to me. Literally."

She sighed. Everyone wanted to kill her. How sad.

"You're only a boy," she said, looking at him. "Why did you want to do this? Follow a life of French domination?" she asked.

"Because...I had a bad childhood all right?" he grumbled unhappily.

She sighed again. What a cliche. People with bad childhoods turning to lives of misery, despair...and kidnapping.

"So Danielle told you everything?" Elsa said after a long silence.

"Well..not everything. I had another accomplice. One who informed me after you arrived at the_ Opera Populaire_ actually."

"Who?"

"I don't know if I should tell you, _Mademoiselle_. You may get angry."

As long as it wasn't Erik I'll be fine, she thought.

"Tell me, _Celui_," she said his name a tad mockingly.

"Christine."

"Say what?"

"Christine."

"Say what?" she repeated, shocked.

He sighed, aggravated. "Christine de Chagny told me about how you and Erik were growing so close. And then I met Danielle who told-"

"Wait, wait, stop. Christine told you about me and Erik? Why?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet!" he asked loudly.

"No, actually, I haven't! So you can stop your yellin' at me!" she yelled back at him from her chair."

"Christine wanted me to kidnap you. She was starting to get annoyed by you and Erik."

"Oh, she can get over herself," Elsa muttered. She never did like Christine...

"Sad...I wasn't really planning on kidnapping you," he said. "Danielle grew on me, and I was considering calling the whole taking-over of France off. But Christine persuaded me."

"With money?"

"40,000 francs if I kidnapped you."

Elsa scoffed.

"And another 40,000 if youwerenever returned."

Elsa was soundless-and speechless.

"So, if Erik doesn't give me the Populaire, I'll have you killed, somehow-haven't decided yet-and I'll still be rich, and I can take over something else."

"You're horrible, you know that? How much lower could you get?"

"I could take advantage of you," he chuckled.

Elsa rolled her eyes._ Just try it, dude. Just. Try._

"But, I don't think I will..."

"You're lucky my arm is tied to this chair, _Celui_," she spat. "Or you wouldn't have a nose."

"Doesn't the Opera Ghost have 'a great lack hole that servesas the nose that never grew?'" he asked, changing the subject. "And if so...Why in Versailles would you fall madly in love with _him_?"

"Don't talk about him when you don't even know what he really looks like," she said quietly.

"Oh, I know plenty," he said with an arrogant wave of his hand. "He's got yellow skin? Cold hands? A living cadaver?" he hissed.

_Temper rising, but temper will not get to me, I will pretend I am very tolerant, la la la..._she thought with difficulty.

"And he beats people doesn't he? And tortures them just because he can? Shame," Gaston continued. "And you call me the horrible person."

"Quit while you're ahead Gaston," Elsa sighed, trying to control her anger. "Even though you're not really ahead. At all."

"Enough chit-chat for the day," he smirked. "I'll be leaving you here then. I'll check on you though...The next time I think about you."

He bowed his head mockingly and exited the room, slamming the door.

"Ya know what?" Elsa said to herself, tugging at the ropes binding her to the chair. "I am not happy," she sighed, leaning her head back and staring up at the ceiling. "Erik, you can come and save me now," she muttered bitterly. Dammit! She hated being the damsel in distress!

* * *

Haha...I mean. Gee, that sucks.Eh heh...'Nother chapter soon to come. Maybe tonight, probably tomorrow, definitely the next day if not tomorrow. I can't go two whole days without revising! Haha. Review, review, review! And people! Talk about the actual chapter this time, not just the darned sugar!


	19. Composing And Convergence

Another chapter, and this one I like forits' ending. Thank you for all the ideas and reviews. I believe you can tell when I use one of your ideas, for example: a chapter or two ago someone told me it would be funny if the Vicomte saved the day, and in some ways he did. He found out about Celui, which will come up later, hopefully. And someone else-or maybe the same person!-told me it would be intersting to see Christine as the "bad guy." And I'll use more of the ideas you give me, if you just give 'em to me! Enough with the idle chit-chat though! On with the story! On with the plot!

* * *

When Erik woke the next morning, a note was resting on top of his chest. He looked down at it, very confused-and unhappy.

"Damn," he half cursed, half yawned. "How does this person keep evading me? In my own home!"

He sat up-still in Elsa's bed-and stared at the note and its' seal. It was a large, golden oval, with a _G_ in scrolled lettering. He looked at it again. A _G_? But..._Celui_ is spelled with a_ C_...He frowned and turned over the letter. Opera Ghost was scribbled in crude, black script.

"This better be an apology note," Erik said to himself, tearing the seal.

_Opera Ghost,_

_Are you yet willing to hand over the Opera Populaire to me? If not...Well, you know how these kidnappings go. Either give me what I want, or I'll...dispose of her. Meet me at the Arc de Triomphe during the midnight hour of tomorrow night. Just me and you. No one else._

_Celui_

Erik ran a hand over his eyes and placed the note back in its' envelope, sighing.

"Fine," he muttered. "Fine."

He placed his mask back on his face-last night he had cried so uncontrollably, he had to take it off, or drown in his tears. He hadn't ceased thinking of her, and he still couldn't put her from his mind. But had he even been trying in the first place?

He got up and went straight to his piano. These recent tribulations gave him a good excuse to compose. He exhaled, sitting down at the bench, and placed his fingers thoughtfully on the ivory keys. A moment of reflection, and he began to play.

The beginning evoked soft, melancholy sounds, almost whispers. He smiled grimly and paused to write the notes on some spare parchment. He began again, varying his soft and slow rhythm to a louder, harsher piece; then back to calm and so on.

Erik spent the entire day at his piano, writing the music that so mirrored his ever changing emotions. He worked so intently and poured so much of his soul into the pages and pages of music, the whole of the opera house heard him working, and anyone who listened even for a small time, felt some form of sentiment flow through them-whether it was anger, sorrow, love or determination.

When half past 11 o'clock approached, Erik rose somberly from his piano, slightly stiff from his nonstop creative endeavor, yet still satisfied with his accomplishments. Drained of much of his strength as he was, he decided to get cleaned up before his appointment with _Celui_. He was soon ready to leave, and, giving a last glance to the sheets of newly written music stacked in the stand, the melody still embedded in his mind for it reminded him of her, Erik left for the _Arc de Triomphe. _

He was ten minutes early and was careful not to be seen right away. He consequently disguised himself against the Napoleonic monument's shadow, looking around for a sign of _Celui_...

_Celui_ appeared a few minutes after Erik had, but on the opposite side of the street of the_ Arc de Triomphe_. He too hid himself in the blackened shade of night, waiting for the arranged time before he would expose himself.

But _Celui _had already caught the attention of Erik's night-sensitive eye. Making sure to ignore him, Erik stood erectly beside the Arc, waiting for his adversary to make the first move.

The _Notre Dame_ tower bells rang out the midnight hour.

"You were early, Phantom," _Celui_ sighed behind Erik.

"And you arrived after me, but chose to conceal yourself until now. Why?" Erik asked cooly.

_Celui_-Gaston, remember-clenched his jaw shut, realizing Erik had witnessed his advent. He reprimanded himself silently, for being so dull.

"So, Phantom," _Celui _said, putting the mistake behind him and leaning against the _Arc_. "Are you willing, as I previously inquired, to hand over the _Populaire_?"

"I am not," Erik said simply. "But I do expect her to be returned to me tomorrow evening at the edge of the lake."

_Celui_ scoffed. "Tomorrow evening?"

"9 o'clock, to be precise."

"And if I do not comply?" he spat.

"Have you ever heard of a thing called a Punjab lasso?" Erik asked quietly.

At this, a noose settled and tightened around _Celui's _thin neck. _Celui_ grasped at the rope, trying to loosen it's grip, but Erik's gloved hand pried them away, then made it even more constricting.

"Do we understand each other yet?" Erik said dangerously, giving another tug to his favorite device.

_Celui_ glared at Erik. _Damn! _he cursed his folly. _Punjab Lasso! How could I forget to keep my hand at the level of my eyes? _

"You come alone, Phantom," _Celui_ said, making his words as connected as he was able with the influence of the noose. "And perhaps I'll give her to you. She'll be there, and so will the papers to the opera house."

Erik stared coldly at him, his breaths coming short; the low temperature causing them to form a veil before his mouth.

"Or I can kill you now-" Erik growled, and gave another erratic pull, causing _Celui_ to gasp angrily.

"And then you'll never find her, and if ever you do, it will be too late!" he choked and laughed at the same time.

Erik freed him from the Punjab Lasso, pushing him away from himself.

"I'll be there at 9, Phantom of the Opera, don't you worry," _Celui _said reassuringly. "And by the way; do you know who initially helped me in my work?" he referred to his vandalisms and kidnapping.

Erik gave no reply. Whoever it was would soon to pay-_whoever it was._

"You'll never believe me," he chuckled. "So I won't give away the name. But I will say this: she was once very close to your heart!" He laughed coldly, almost shrieking the noise, then disappeared into the darkened city of Paris.

Erik scowled disbelieving and yet, somehow believing at the same instant. Christine! The only woman ever close to his heart. Not even his own mother reserved a place there. No one had; not until Christine. But then even she had destroyed that situation and left him utterly empty.

But the Elsa had come, and he began to feel whole again. And she, by some miracle, had even more in common with him than just the passion for music. She had his entire heart and would, he knew, forever, no matter what would become of the two. Even if Elsa was suddenly taken back to the place she had come from to begin with-

His heart gave a sudden violent lurch, and dropped within his chest as he thought of what he would do if she was taken away from him so suddenly. He knew what he would do. He would die. He would die of love...He loved her so! And he would love her still, even after his dying day; after his death on the shores of his lake home, surely.

He sighed and then gazed up at the pale, waxing Parisian moon, deciding upon a walk before he returned home. His pace was slow and speculative; almost resentful, but indeed remorseful. If he just hadn't left her alone that night...

It wouldn't be until many hours later, almost when the first rays of the sun touched the horizon, that Erik, the Phantom of the Opera-a living ghost as some would call him-returned to his home beneath the _Opera Populaire_.

* * *

I am quite pleased with this chapter! The paragraphdealing with Erikdying out of love for Elsa was an homage to Gaston Leroux's book, chapter entitled The End of the Ghost, when Erik tells the daroga of his extreme love for Christine.

Also, I hope you guys can see that I rarely repeat words in my chapters, and I was wondering if that was a weird thing, or if it made the overall reading "funner" ? As Mark Twain once said: If you use the same word more than once, you're boring! So I was tryin' to live up to Mr. Twain's "philosophy", one of which I highly admire!

I hope you guys liked it! Review if you would!


	20. Interrupting His Beauty Sleep

Charlie Quill: Gaston Leroux isn't the villain...per say...Ha, ha! But I thought it would be a precious little homage to him, making him the bad dude and all. Hmm, I wonder if he just rolled over in his grave, condemning me and cursing me?

'Nother chaaaaaaapter! Dun dun dun! La la la! Blah blah blah and on with it...

Hey wait I havent done the Disclaimer thing in a while...NOTHIN' OWNED, NOTHIN' ELSE WORTH SAYIN'.

Oh, and on a side-ish note: I didn't make Gaston and Christine the bad guys because I'm jealous of them, just to make that clear. Not jealous, I promise you. Maybe envious, but I just thought, since no one makes Chrissy the bad guy, and Gaston the name is rarely ever used, it might be an intersting homage... :shrug:

* * *

"Raoul?" whispered Danielle, cracking open the Vicomte's bedroom door.

Raoul and Christine had been going through some rough waters, to say the least, in their relationship lately, and had each decided to sleep in separate areas of their residence. Lord knows the de Chagny mansion had enough extra rooms!

There was no answer from the slumbering Raoul.

"Raoul?" Danielle asked, a little louder.

She closed the door partially behind her, leaving a few rays of candlelight from the lamps in the hallway to filter through and guide her steps. She inched, modestly, towards his bed, trying not to disturb anyone else in the place.

Raoul gave a low grumble, and flipped over on his mattress.

"Dammit, Raoul!" hissed Danielle, flicking the Vicomte in the ear.

He gave a yelp and shot up violently in his bed, reaching for the nearest object he could lay his hands on-A pillow. He held it in front of him defensively.

When nothing struck at him, or threatened to noose or shoot him, Raoul revealed his head from the feather-down barrier.

"Danielle?" he asked, confused and groggy.

"Hi," she said innocently, waving.

"Hi," he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes and resting against the headboard of his bed frame. He looked at her concerned and asked, "Are you feeling well, Danielle? Do you need me to fetch someone?"

"No, no," Danielle said, rocking on her heels. "Just wanted to come and say...Hello." She gave a quick smile.

"In the middle of the night?" asked Raoul, smirking, knowing she was up to something else.

Danielle sighed heavily and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Raoul, I'm scared..." she admitted.

"Scared?" laughed Raoul. "Whatever for?"

"For Elsa...and for Gaston."

"Gaston?" asked Raoul.

"The boy who was helping me help Erik."

"Oh. Right," he nodded. "Continue."

"Well," Danielle stumbled, "What if we never find her? Them?"

Raoul sighed for himself, moving to sit next to her. The chill from leaving the warm covers of his bed bit him through his thin nightshirt, and realizing she must be cold as well, offered her a blanket. She declined respectfully, not caring for anything but her endangered friends.

"Danielle," he rested a hand on hers, "they'll be fine. I am le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, and I know everyone in the city." He paused. "All right, I don't know everyone, but I know a lot of people, and in turn they know a lot of people; so if I know half of Paris, and those people knew the other half of Paris, then in a round about way I _do _know everyone." He smiled widely.

She laughed, closing her eyes and holding her head down.

"You do know what I mean, though, don't you?" he asked, quite concerned. He didn't like seeing her worry.

"Yes, I know what you mean...I just wish there was some way to bring them back-now! Especially Elsa. I love her like a sister."

Raoul looked at her, smiling at the simple solution she thought of. Wishing. Wishing, though, never got anyone anywhere. Sure, it may have fueled the fire, but action was the only thing that would bring true results; Raoul knew from experience. But, at the same time, it touched him that he cared so much for her friend.

"We'll get her back," he said again. "Even if I have to go to this _Celui's_ flat and get her myself."

"There's just something that's making me feel like something's wrong though. What if something worse than we expected happens to Elsa?"

There was a silence between the two after this idea delivered itself to their minds. And in this silence, there was a soft clicking noise emitted from somewhere. Danielle believed it was her emotional state helping to fool her into elevating her anxiety. She frowned to herself, thinking, _Must have been the cats,_ she pondered logistically. She looked back at Raoul.

No, he had heard it too. He paced to the door and _opened it_, peering into the dimly lit hall. There was nothing there...

He shrugged and returned to his place beside her.

"I want you to get some rest, Danielle," he said, taking up her shaking hand in his own as he had done before. "And in the morning, I'll see to it that_ Celui _is indeed paid a visit some time tomorrow." He stood, and pulled her up with him. "Off you go now. No more worrying! I'll handle everything."

Laying a hand on the golden door handle, she paused and declared, "I keep thinking of Gaston...Perhaps _he doesn't know hardly anything of anything at all_, and he was just trying to help, for his own sake and conscience..."

She looked back at Raoul, dismissing what she had said with a slight shake of her head and simper, bid him good night and mentioned a word about her appreciation for his willing assistance, then turned to leave, back to her room-and dearly missed thermal sheets and blankets.

After Danielle was sound asleep, dreaming of ways to locate her friends, Christine crept from the shadow of the stairwell and returned to her own chamber, grinning mysteriously.

* * *

Aw, why does Chrissy have to be such a loser? Gah! Can't she grasp the concept Erik doesn't love her anymore and move on? Heh heh heh...

Ooo anddid any ofyou catch the thing referring back to what Raoul said about _Celui_ in a previous chapter? And isn't it just a COINCIDENCE that Danielle said the same about Gaston? Shouldn't she be piecing the puzzle together yet! When will she ever find out! Will she find out? Would she want to find out if she was asked about finding out! FIND OUT NEXT CHAPTER! Or sometime soon! Mwahaha!

Reviews are handy tools that help the writer please the reader. Tell the writer what you, the reader,want to see happen to Christine, for the writer is having some difficulties figuring out what to do with the meddling Daae. Sank you for your time. PEACE OUT.


	21. Darkness Stirs and Wakes Imagination

A/N: Oh woe and misery upon me! The stupid electrical storm the other night fried my modem, and now I'm stuck with an old Macintosh computer from 5,000 years ago. The worst part is NO INTERNET! It's only AOL version 5.0! I curse the weather gods for destroying my life...Oh well. New modem in a week and a half. I hope I shall make it through. Anywhosits. NEXT chapter! Dun dun DA dun! This chapter is a little more...Eh...Depressing? Kinda...Sorta. Anyways. Quite emotional. And theres imagery. Blah blah. Have a nice time.

* * *

Elsa was lying beside him, her head resting on his chest, her brown curls splayed artfully around her face. She was sleeping, a smile dancing across her lips; her breathing coming in deep, even intervals. Erik gazed down at her, grinning and tracing the outline of those smiling lips. Everything was quiet and calm as they laid together in the darkness of his home. Completion filled him-his heart, his soul-as he wrapped his arms around her and held her closely pressed to his body. She gripped his collar, still asleep, and moaned softly into him as he embraced her.

_Nothing is made to endure, _whispered a voice in the back of Erik's head.

And suddenly, interrupting the peacefulness of the whole scene, an incandescent flash of light illuminated the entire lower half of the Opera Populaire. The surface of the lake appeared translucent and the reflection of the water was blinding, adding to the light already there. A deafening crack! resounded throughout the place and Erik bolted upright in bed, covering his aching ears. Elsa, meanwhile, frowned, only just emerging from her rest.

Awake now, she screamed out his name, but would not open her eyes, much to Erik's confusion. She threw out her arms, searching for him, pleading with him to hold her and make the nightmare end.

"Save me!" she shouted, but would not open her eyes. "Erik please! Don't leave me here!" she sobbed.

Confusion, horror, pain-All streaked across Erik's face as he attempted reaching out to her to hold her close to him once more, but now he was on the opposite side of the room, simply watching her cry out.

In another instant-a split second-Elsa was gone. She was gone from the bed, gone from his home. Gone from the Opera Populaire, gone from France. And gone from_ him_.

He stared at the place she had been laying, his eyes transfixed there, his expression one of ultimate terror. His mouth hung open, his eyes brimmed with hot tears threatening to fall.

"No," he whispered, and tripped to the edge of the bed, where he ripped the sheets from it and threw the pillows away, searching for her.

"No!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the wall beside the headboard when he finally accepted she was gone. "No!" No, he would not accept it.

He went into a wild frenzy, knocking over anything in his path as he stormed from the room, making his way to the edge of the lake, where he dropped painfully to his knees.

"No!" he shouted again, his tears burning as they streamed down his cheeks. They mocked him, tormented him. How could he keep someone so wonderful for his own? He was a fool to think it would ever last. He didn't deserve her. He was a monster after all. Nothing but a monster.

He sobbed, holding his head in his hands, grieving freely, allowing the tears to torture him. His cries personified pain. Sounds of misery and anguish and heartbreak mingled together to create a lamentation that would make the devil shudder and quail.

He crawled to the lake's edge and plunged his hands into the frigid water. Her roared in pain as the water stung his flesh. His mouth set in a stern line of determination, he threw himself into the lake, pushing himself down, down to the deepest space in the expanse of water. Forcing his eyes open, he felt the haunting tears still flowing down his face, set on destroying him, even while fully submerged under the water! He thought nothing of anything except her, and whatever had taken her from him. He thrashed about in the cold, heart resolved on one thing.

His lungs and heart throbbed against the sides of his body, threatening to collapse. He didn't care. He wanted to die. He wanted to be rid of the world and the heartache it had forced upon him.

A few more long moments, and Erik's sight dimmed, the freezing water seeping into his eyes and nose and mouth; his world obscured and grew misty, hazy, dark. But his mind remained alert, urging him to push himself from the bottom of the lake, to save himself, to go on with his life.

But his heart told him to give up and die; perhaps he would see her in the next life. _Never_, he thought bitterly. She was a living angel, and he-a demon burning in hell, ever since the beginning of his wretched and condemned life, his first breath.

The last moment of his existence, one more gulp of cold lake water and-

Erik cried out and shot up in his bed. No, he was in her bed. His breathing erratic and heavy, stifled even, he leaned back against the headboard, dizzy and clutching at his heaving chest. He glanced around. No one was there. Everything was still and dark...

He stood unsteadily from the bed and stumbled to his piano, resting heavily upon its' side, and drew deep breaths of the crisp air of his underground home until respiration was restored back to its' somewhat normal state. He then bent his head and cried.

He cried, for he had both hope and despair.  
It had been just a dream-A horrible nightmare, the most appalling image the Phantom had ever witnessed. It even surpassed his "marred" and "hideous" face. It had tried to push him to the edge, tried to convince him there was nothing else to live for because she had been taken away from him.

But she hadn't been taken away from him permanently, he thought, grim happiness tugging at the corners of his mouth. _Celui_ agreed to bring her back, hadn't he?  
Oh, but the papers...

He groaned. What was he do to about the Opera Populaire? His home? Could he give it up, even for her, who had such a hold on his heart, soul, and mind? He had constructed the opera house himself, pouring his every ounce of creativity into it. He couldn't simply _give it up_.

But...Elsa...?

He sighed. He must decide what to do-And soon. His next appointment with_Celui_ was in a few hours. He cursed himself bitterly for waking up in the middle of the afternoon.

The grim happiness he had recently felt already long vanished, Erik splashed his face with cold lake water, careful not to give it any other unnecessary attention, and put his mind to work on what he must do before 9 o'clock.

* * *

All right so how was that! Not too bad, eh? I hope not. Review, review! And more suggestions. I love what y'all are givin' me. Next chapter: Back to Celui's flat. (Thanks, pinkyphantom!)

Many thanks and much appreciation,

O.G.

Also, I wanna give a shout out to Raoul, who agreed so willingly to update this for me, since Im screwed with no internet. HUGS TO YOU!


	22. Jealousy Is A Bad Thing

This chapter took longer than I expected. Hope you like.

* * *

The old, wooden door of _Celui's_ flat with a foreboding creak, causing Elsa to snap to attention.

For the past few days, still strapped uncomfortably to that chair, she slept every chance she got, which wasn't often; _Celui _was hardly ever out of the room. But she was so exhausted. Her limbs ached, her bruises weren't yet beginning to heal-even her mind felt weak. Whenever he got the opportunity, _Celui_ would torment Elsa about her relationship with the Phantom of the Opera, telling her he wasn't worth her time, and neither was she worth any of his. Their love would never work. In fact, _Celui_ had once sneered, he was sure the Phantom didn't even care about her, and wasn't even worried he would never get her back. Elsa knew it wasn't true...or did she? She never liked the thought of love affairs and romances, but she thought Erik was different. Maybe he wasn't.

Lucky for Elsa though, _Celui_ had recently stepped out, saying something about picking up some various items. So she was left alone, for the moment at least; and she was beginning to fear she would be doomed to spend the rest of her life in that dark room, tied to that horrible chair.

But now, someone else was in the room, and Elsa had a strong feeling that it wasn't _Celui_, who usually greeted her when he entered, even if the remarks were cold and harsh. Light footsteps were heard creeping closer.

_Please don't kill me,_ Elsa sighed to herself.

_Celui_ may have "gone out" just for someone else to come in and dispose of her, like he had promised he would do if Erik didn't give him the _Opera Populaire_. Maybe he was tired of waiting.

Elsa gave a shudder as a hand rested on the back of the chair, next to her head. It was a pale hand, delicate-the hand of a woman.

It wasn't Danielle, she realized sadly. But she hadn't counted on anything as miraculous as that to happen. Not to her, least ways.

Whoever it was sighed behind her. The noise was filled with mock compassion and sorrow-and it filled Elsa with paranoia.

Then she realized who it was. The figure standing quietly behind her, exhaling calmly, was none other than Christine Daae de Chagny!

"Oh, Elsa," the melancholy voice of Christine sighed again. "I never meant it to be this way." Her hand passed deftly over Elsa's hair in sympathy.

Elsa stiffened. She could either say something, or hear what this Prima Donna had to say.

"But when I saw the way Erik looked a you, that night in my dressing room when he insisted you stay with him instead of with Raoul and me, well, I just felt I had to do something," Christine continued. "I couldn't have him falling for you after he'd fallen so hard for me." She glanced down at Elsa and stressed her next statement. "I am, after all, the only woman truly worthy of the Angel of Music's love. Too worthy. That's why I had to leave him for Raoul."

Elsa clenched her jaw shut and felt her muscles tense in aggression. So, she wasn't good enough to be loved by Erik?

Christine ceased her speech for a moment, walking in front of her. Wrapped in black shawls and veiled from the top of her head to her neck, it was obvious she had snuck away from her mansion-and Raoul-to come here. But why? What did she mean to accomplish?

She spoke again.

"I left him for Raoul," she repeated harshly, almost resentfully. "I married him for power, not love," she smirked. "But his undying love for me has softened his political side. He wouldn't dream of monopolizing Paris, because it would _somehow_ hurt me." She scoffed, apparently disgusted with the thought. "That is why I began meeting with Gaston. He's crafty and devious-not to mention more my age!"

"You're having an affair!" accused Elsa, looking at Christine shamefully.

"You would too if your husband was a weak, spineless excuse for the Vicomte of Paris!" she shrieked in defense. "Raoul had the potential to make this city a place where the people feared him and praised him! But-"

"This is Paris," interrupted Elsa, "not the whole of France. You can't rule it as if it were a country; a Vicomte can't act as King." Had Christine gone mad?

"You know nothing of this," snapped Christine, glaring down at her. "You're not even from here!"

Elsa rolled her eyes thinking, _Power trip!_

_  
_"I should have Gaston kill you now," she spat, "instead of waiting for Erik to hand over the opera house."

"Erik won't give you the opera house," Elsa said.

"Oh, won't he?" Christine purred dangerously, resting her hand on Elsa's neck. "I think he will...After a little persuasion!" She tightened her grip, choking the breath out of Elsa.

Elsa winced and cursed to herself. _Dammit! What is it with everyone wanting to choke me to death!_

"Christine...!"

Christine wouldn't let go. She was going to kill her right there.

"Mademoiselle de Chagny, what on Earth are you doing?"

Christine, blushing terribly, removed her hand and cried, "Gaston!" She giggled, a bit nervously, and ran to him, falling into his arms. "Darling I was just apologizing to Elsa-for all of this!"

Elsa, still choking slightly as she recovered her breath, resolved not to yell out, "Liar!" Gaston wouldn't believe her, Christine being his new lover.

"My dear," Gaston said, sweetly kissing her. "You need not apologize to her. She's not worth your time."

_Okay, I want away from these people now,_ thought Elsa bitterly. _Erik, please, please, please come and get me! Anytime now!_

_  
_"Ah!" exclaimed Gaston, looking at his pocket watch. "Already half past 8. Christine, I must go see a monster about an opera house. You'll be all right walking back to your home unaccompanied?"

"Oh," pouted Christine innocently. "I was hoping I could come along."  
"I think it would be unwise to reveal you in my presence," Gaston said.

"Oh, what does it matter anymore? Even when you do get those papers, we're killing them both!" Elsa's eyes widened. "Please allow me to come! I could be of some assistance, perhaps."

"Oh, all right," Gaston gave in. "You are terribly difficult to refuse, Mademoiselle de Chagny. But we must hurry. I wouldn't want to be late-Not tonight!"

He laughed and hurried over to Elsa. Finally! Some attention!  
"Sorry for this-Actually, no I'm not!" he laughed, knocking Elsa over the head with a heavy object, most likely his pistol.

Elsa's vision blurred and she was soon unconscious, unaware of where exactly she was being carried off to.

* * *

I must admit, this chapter didn't turn out exactly as I had planned...But oh well. I may rewrite it later. I'm havin' some...health...issues right now, and it's killin' me to type this. Hope it was sufficient. Review please, tell me what you think should happen. 


	23. Pacing and Realization

This is rather short...I think. I can't tell, since I'm not on my regular word processor. But sure, we'll call it short.

Thank you my kind reviewer for this next thing, you know who you are! I called Daae Mademoiselle instead of Madame! Shame on me! My apologies. Let's pretend I didn't do that, shall we? And when I get my new darned modem, I'll revise that.

Any other orders of business? I don't think so. So read on!

* * *

Raoul paced frantically before the heavy French doors of his mansion, hands clasped nervously behind his back, his brow knitted in frustration, perspiration threatening to fall from his beading forehead. He muttered to himself incoherently, turning quickly on his heel every other stride.

After he had passed a good three-quarters of an hour doing so, Danielle began to worry for the Vicomte's last shreds of sanity, and decided to question him about his odd behavior.

Cautiously, rising from her chair and walking behind him, she interrogated him.  
"She's been gone since noon!" came his shrieking, fervid reply. "She left at noon and it is now half past 8 o'clock!"

"She's out shopping," Danielle sighed.

"How do you know that?" he snapped, rounding on her. "Did she tell you that?"

"No, Raoul," she said, pushing him away from her-He popped her bubble! "But come on! This_ is_ Christine we're talkin' about! She's perfectly fine."

Raoul grumbled a curse or two, then resumed his agitated pacing, his shiny black boots clunking heavily on the swirled marble floor, the noise echoing and reverberating throughout the house. The maids and butlers shook their heads placidly, feeling little pity for their employer, then returned solemnly to their cleaning.

"I'm sure she's fine, Raoul," Danielle tried again. "She's how old now?"  
Raoul paused. He didn't really know how old she was...Maybe 18...Maybe not. How old was he? 20-something or other-

"But that's beyond the point!" he said exasperated. "What if she's been kidnapped as well? I'd never forgive myself!" He threw his hands to his face.

"Oi, man," Danielle mumbled.

"If it was that _Celui_ fellow, I'll have him-!"

"She is fine! She's probably on her way home right now."

"No, I don't think so! She's gone! Gone forever!"

"Okay, Raoul, listen to me!" She took hold of his shoulders and looked him sternly in his stubborn eye. "If she's been away so long, my guess is she's with Erik."

Raoul stiffened and glared at Danielle. "What do you mean, 'with Erik', eh? You think she's having an af-?"

"No!" interrupted Danielle, fed up with the Vicomte's pathetic jealousy. "While out shopping today, she got some new 411 about the _Celui_ dude, and went to tell Erik, 'cause he would _probably_ like to know." Danielle thought this was incredibly unrealistic, but she had to say something to calm Raoul's nerves.

"Ah, I see," said Raoul thoughtfully. "But wait. What is '411?' And 'dude' means...?"

Danielle exhaled, aggravated. "411 is information, 'dude' means guy, man, or person in general!"

"Ah, I see!" he said again, understanding. "So she's at the_ Opera Populaire_! Well then! There's not a moment to lose!" he laughed and threw on his overcoat and tall hat and raced out the door, moving towards the opera house a few blocks away.

Danielle shrugged and followed after him, reminding herself to tell Christine never to leave for more than 8 hours at a time.

The de Chagny maids and butlers shook their heads again, then returned, once again, to their dusting and polishing.

---

Erik splashed his face with frigid lake water-for the seventh time for that day-and pulled on his vest and coat, then draped a cloak over his shoulders. Adjusting his ivory mask and tucking a thick roll of parchment under his arm-the deeds to the _Opera Populaire_- he set off for the foyer of the opera house.

While he walked, he pondered the idea of _Celui_ again. Who was he really? He thought of the notes he received and if he recognized the handwriting on any of them. Perhaps he knew this _Celui _and didn't even realize it?

"No," he muttered to himself, removing a torch from the wall. He was more than often able to make his way through the labyrinth without light, but tonight it was unusually dark in the catacombs of his opera house.

"A 'G'," he mused, thinking of the wax seals of the last notes he had received. "A 'G' instead of a 'C'..."

_"First Gaston, now my best friend-Now Elsa!"  
_  
Erik stopped dead in his tracks, frozen on the spot. Hot cinders fell from the torch as Erik's eyes narrowed in thought.

"Gaston...Gaston was kidnapped, then Elsa-Dammit!" he yelled loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls around him. "Gaston is _Celui_! Of course! How could I have been so-!"

He cursed himself silently, and strode quickly the rest of the length of the dark hallway, anger mounting within him with each livid step.

Hiding himself in the threatening shadow of a nearby golden statue in the foyer, Erik concealed himself perfectly-as he did so well-and waited for _Celui_-Gaston!-as he had done the previous night, his rage apparent in his glaring, cold eyes, his hand wrapped tightly around the pistol in his vest coat pocket.

_"No one tricks Erik-especially no boy!-into giving up his opera house,"_ he thought, peering into the darkness surrounding him, searching for signs of his enemy._ "And even if they do," _he smirked dangerously, _"they don't live long enough to brag..."

* * *

_

Well, there ya have it folks, chapter 23. Finally, Erik realizes who He-who-has-a-non-threatening-name really is! Yay for the Phantom, oh how I love him! Review_ sil'vous plait!_ And here! HAVE A COOKIE! I love you all!


	24. They'll Blame the Opera Ghost in the Mor...

Chapter 24: They'll Blame the Opera Ghost in the Morning

Nextchapter upfinally! I'm sorry for the wait, but I've been busy, not to mention the blown modem, but now it is fixed and I can finally finish this thing! WHOO! And this chapter is longer! So yay!

* * *

"Danielle, keep up!" barked Raoul, walking quickly up the _Opera Populaire's_ steps. 

Danielle huffed, running after him, and slapped in the back of the head. He yelped and fell against the hard oaken doors of the opera house.

"Damn," he muttered. "It's locked! Tell me! Who locks the opera house?" he yelled unhappily.

"Um. Raoul?" Danielle sighed. "It's already 5 minutes 'til 9. Everyone's gone!"

Raoul sighed impatiently and dug in his coat pockets for a few minutes.

"Either this key works," he grumbled. "or I take that thing out of your hair and we break in."

"Hey!" she shrieked, raising her hands to her head, where her hair was perfectly placed with bobby pins. "Back off the nice hair-do!"

He cursed as the key wouldn't turn. He cursed louder, rammed the key into the lock, slammed it to the side a few times before finally getting it to fit, then gave a great turn, heaving himself into the door.

"Aha!" he cried, throwing open the door with a sharp crack. "Victory!"

"Watch the police come after us now..."

"Oh, tosh," he shrugged. "I'm the Vicomte of Paris!" he boasted, walking briskly towards-wait, where was he going?

"Where are you going, Raoul?" Danielle asked.

"No clue...Christine's dressing room? We can use the mirror."

"How many times must I tell you, there is a lever in the back of the mirror, so no one on the other side can get past it."

"Damn...Clever bastard..." he groaned.

"Yes, you've sad that," said Danielle bitterly.

"So...where do we go?"

A loud bang was heard throughout the foyer the two were standing in. Danielle jumped off the marble tile, and Raoul dug around in his pockets for his pistol. Apparently, the Vicomte keeps everything in his pocket.

"Nice way to get us caught, Gaston!" hissed a female voice through the darkness behind Danielle and Raoul.

"Christine!" thought Raoul feverishly, trying to make a run for her, but Danielle held him back.  
_Gaston?_ she was thinking. _No, no, no. No way. He's alive!  
_  
"Sorry," a male voice mumbled in reply. "Didn't mean to slam the door..."

"Whose is that voice?" growled Raoul.

"Ssh!" commanded Danielle and pulled the two of them behind a statue. She didn't know what was going on, but she wanted to wait for her opportune moment, like Elsa would certainly tell her.

Raoul, thankfully, understood and merely gripped his gun in his pocket tightly. He, too, could wait for his "opportune moment."

Footsteps echoed on the marble flooring as they approached.

"I think she's waking up," mumbled the male voice-Gaston.

"_Zut_!" Christine cursed. "Hit her over the head again, then! Do something!"  
_  
What the...? _both Raoul and Danielle were thinking.

"I can't reach my gun!" said Gaston. "Anyway, we'll need to prove to idiot Erik she's alive. Or he'll noose us, I suppose."

Christine gave an aggravated sigh, but followed Gaston as he walked right past the statue Raoul and  
Danielle were hiding behind.

Raoul was frowning angrily. Is this the Gaston Danielle was talking about? Why was Christine with him? What were they doing? So many questions for one Vicomte.

Danielle was suffering from the same confusion, but decided to keep quiet and stay hidden. What could she do anyway? She did have one other question though. Who was the 'she' Christine and  
Gaston were talking about? Who was waking up?

"Alright, so where is this opera ghost?" asked Gaston, pacing the foyer. "It is now 9 o'clock. He wouldn't be late would he?"

A low moan sounded through the hall.

"She's waking up!" groaned Christine.

"Oh, Christine," Gaston sighed. He loved her, yes, but she was awfully hard to get along with sometimes.

"Alright, I demand to know what is going on here!" announced Raoul, immerging from behind the statue.

"Raoul!" muttered Danielle. "Damn impatient Vicomte!"

Christine gasped. "Raoul! What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Raoul shot back. "And who, pray tell, is that?"

"_Monsieur le Vicomte_," Gaston said, putting out his hands innocently. "There is no offense in this, none at all. Christine was visiting me-I'm an old childhood friend-and I offered to escort her home. But when you proved absent, we decided to hunt for you here, at the opera house." He smiled.

Raoul milled this thought over in his mind a moment.

"That seems logical..."

"Gaston!" Danielle cried, deciding to speak. She ran to him and hugged him. "I thought you had been kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped?" he asked, confused.

She looked at him strangely. "Remember? When we were waiting for _Celui_ out in the corridors? You disappeared." She still hadn't pieced the facts together...

"Ah, yes," he stuttered. "You see, I, uh, well, I just got a case of cold feet and needed to leave."

"But you told me you were going to go look for _Celui_-"

Christine sighed, perturbed. "You silly girl! Gaston, please explain to her, and to _monsieur de Chagny_ what is really going on here."

"Christine?" asked Gaston and Raoul simultaneously.

"That will be quite alright, Gaston," boomed a voice from behind the whole group. "I will tell you what is going on, _monsieur de Chagny_!"

Everyone whirled around, and Christine gave an astonished cry when standing before them was Erik, looming dangerously, a hand gripped tightly around a burning torch that illuminated he foyer.

Gaston cursed quietly, Christine bit her lip, and Raoul and Christine shared looks of confusion.

"You see, _monsieur, mademoiselle_, Gaston is-"

"Erik?" came a soft voice from...below him? "Is that you?"

"Elsa?" Danielle asked.

"Dammit, girl!" growled Gaston, pulling Elsa to her feet. "Must you ruin everything?"

Elsa, who had been abandoned and lying in the floor, finally gained her senses and attempted to ask Erik, who was standing on her hair, to get off. But now Gaston had dragged her to her feet, so she was relieved of that pain.

"I told you to kill her before we left," mumbled Christine, hiding herself behind Gaston, who had retreated away from the Phantom.

Erik narrowed his eyes at the pair of offenders. Raoul and Danielle still shared looks of confusion.

"Give her back to me, Gaston," said Erik.

"Hah! You think I'll just hand her over, just like that?" he laughed. "Not until you give me the papers!"

"Yes, hand them over, Erik," Christine said.

"Christine," Erik said sadly, "you really are with him?"

"Yes, I love him!"

"Christine!" yelped Raoul. "You don't mean that!"

"Raoul," Christine sighed. "I despise you, you pathetic Vicomte."

"Chri-!"

"Now, Raoul, be quiet! We're trying to finish a deal here!"

"A deal?" Danielle asked.

"The _Opera Populaire_ for her, just as we said, Phantom!" said Gaston.

"Okay, can you let go of my arm?" asked Elsa, yawning. "Damn..."

"Shut up!" Gaston growled.

"How many times have I told you not to tell me to shut up?" yelled Elsa, tired of being mistreated by some stupid boy barely older than herself.

"Why are you so difficult?" asked Christine.

"Quiet, all of you," Erik commanded. He took the roll of papers from under his cloak. "Here are the blasted papers, Gaston."

"You mean you're really giving me the_ Populaire_?" asked Gaston, surprised.

Christine nudged him in the ribs.

"I mean, yes! Give them here then," he said.

"Erik, don't," said Elsa, rolling her eyes. "He's an idiot. He doesn't even have the guts to kill me."

"Elsa, don't test me," he said, twisting her wrist.

"Ow, thank you. But no, you won't kill me. You're pathetic! Christine came closer to killing me than you. Okay, so you gave me some bruises, but-!"

Gaston slapped her hard across the face.

_Click._

Both Raoul's and Erik's pistols were aimed at Gaston. A quick appreciative glance to Raoul, and Erik threw the papers at Gaston's feet.

"Many thanks," Gaston smiled as Christine picked up the papers, leafing through them and looking at them in the dim light.

"Now, let her go," Erik said. "Or I'm afraid she'll kill you before I have the chance to shoot you."

"Wha-?"

Elsa, after rubbing her face, landed a hard punch in Gaston's stomach.

"Hit me again, Gaston," she threatened.

Danielle laughed. That was Elsa, alright.

"Why, you llittle-"

A loud bang echoed through the foyer. Christine screamed and covered her eyes. Danielle winced and covered her ears. Elsa looked wide eyed at Gaston, who was nowat her feet. Erik looked at Raoul.

"You shot him, Vicomte?"Erik asked, his hand slightly trembling. He hadn't even _planned_ to shoot.

"Yes, he was getting on my nerves," he muttered, looking at the distraught Christine.

"Oh, damn," said Elsa quietly, backing away.

Christine sobbed and fell to her knees beside Gaston's still form.

"Elsa," Erik said softly. He could care less about Christine at the moment, and he wanted to hold Elsa close to him.

She looked at him and smiled, running to him. Jumping into his arms, she almost cried just looking up into his eyes.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she said, blushing.

He wanted to kiss her, just kiss her, not caring about whoever else was in the room. But he didn't. He was a little self conscious of Danielle and the Vicomte standing next to him. So he simply smiled at her.

"Christine," said Raoul quietly. Was their relationship over? He feared it so...

"Leave me alone," she snapped at him, getting to her feet. "Just leave me be!" she cried and ran out of the_ Populaire_.

Danielle thought about running out to her, trying to reason with her, but Raoul sighed and disagreed.

"Let her go. She'll catch the train to Soho to be with her aunt...Just let her go."

"But what will you do?" Danielle asked. "What will people say?"

"Oh, so there will be a scandal in Paris. The Vicomte loses his wife, I can see the headlines now." He sighed heavily and after a moment of thought said, "Let's go home Danielle."

"Wait, Raoul," she said, then hugged Elsa tightly. "I'm glad you're alright. I worried every night about you, I thought I'd lost you, and-"

"Will, it's fine. I'm safe," Elsa smiled, hugging her again.

"Hey, did he-Was it a Johnathan Waters thing?" she asked.

"No!" laughed Elsa. "I wouldn't let him do that to me!"

"Oh, good," Danielle sighed. "But...He was _Celui_?"

"Yes he was..."

"He lied to me," sighed Danielle, her eyes growing misty.

"He lied to everyone," Elsa said. "Don't blame yourself."

"But I'm responsible for letting him-"

"I don't want to hear it," said Elsa, putting up her hand. "Now go on home. Go to bed. You could use some rest."

"That I could," sighed Danielle. "Alright. I'll come and see you tomorrow."

"I'll be here," she smiled, taking Erik's hand discreetly.

He smiled and gripped it tightly, not wanting to let her go and lose her again.

"'Night Jack," Danielle said, following a slient Raoul out of the opera house.

Elsa siged when they were gone, leaning against Erik for support. She was bruised and in pain, and didn't know if she could stand on her own any longer.

"Elsa," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her, "I missed you so much."

She smiled. "I missed you too...Erik?" she asked, looking at him.

"Yes?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Never mind," she mumbled, looking away.

_Hmm..._he thought. _Perhaps...? No..._

"Well, I say we get you back to my home and into bed. You look tired."

She nodded. _Damn, shoulda kissed him, _she yelled at herself. She winced when she took a step. _Oh, sore. Ow._

"Any broken bones?" he asked, supporting her.

She shook her head. "Just many, many bruises."

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I wish I had been able to-"

"Don't even think it, Erik," she smiled. "I'm fine. Not that weak, ya know. I did punch him in the stomach."

"Yes, that was very admirable."

"He was an idiot, trust me. But you're right, we should go down now," she prodded him. "Please?" She wanted to leave!

"Oh, yes, of course. Anything."

"Oh, but what about him?" she asked, looking back at Gaston.

Erik frowned and looked at the fallen body.

"Leave him," he muttered, turning her away from the sight. "They'll blame the opera ghost tomorrow morning."

"But I don't want you to be blamed, Erik. It hurts me when they treat you-"

"I know, I know," he whispered. "But put it from your mind. They're used to the occasional murder," he smiled grimly.

"Fine, you win," she said. "But what about the papers?"

"Fake, so don't you worry," he laughed.

"You are a genius," she smiled, and walked with him out of the foyer.

She was glad it was all over, and so was he.

"Ah, I just remembered. I have a gift for you," he said.

"You have a what?"

"Oh, nothing. I didn't say anything."

"But you said you-"

"I didn't, I'm sure you're mistaken," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh, I see your game," she said, crossing her arms. "Leading me on, are you?"

"No, of course not."

She eyed him carefully. "Uh huh...sure then."

He smiled to himself and continued the long walk to his underground home, Elsa's arm in his, feeling a happiness he hadn't felt in quite a while.

* * *

I hope you liked it well enough. I told you it was long! Leave your comments, you know I love 'em. 


	25. The Music of the Night

How many times must i repost this!

* * *

"I'm home," Elsa sighed, mostly to herself, when the gondola bumped into the edge of the rock wall.

Erik smiled, hearing her.

"Well, I'm very glad you're back." He led her to his bedroom. "Because now," he said, removing something from underneath his bed, "I can give you your gift that I meant to a few nights ago."

"Erik, no you didn't," she said, seeing the case-shaped package.

"Ah, but I did," he said happily, handing it to her.

She sighed, disbelieving, and carefully removed the paper wrapping from it. Sure enough, it was a 4/4 sized violin case. She looked at him excitedly and, undoing the latches on the side, opened the case to find a pitch black glazed violin with red inlay-to match his.

"Turn it over," he mumbled, waiting for her reaction.

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered the engraving on the back of the violin. "_To My Love, From Yours. Erik._" It was short. It was simple. It was perfect.

"Dammit, Erik," she laughed through her falling tears. "You had to go and make me cry didn't you?"

"Of course. It's what I do. I throw people into emotional fits," he said, somewhat jokingly.

"It's beautiful," she said, cradling it gently in her arms.

"You like it then?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"It's perfect." She looked at him.

The bow was black ebony wood with mother of pearl inlaid on the frog; the hair was dyed black to give the instrument an elegant, streamline appearance while playing.

She sniffed and laughed at her hopeless emotions, wiping her eyes dry on her sleeve.

"I love it," she said.

"I'm glad," he smiled softly.

They looked at each other a moment more, before Elsa yawned by accident. She blushed, "destroying" the moment.

Erik smiled widely; how silly of him to forget she hadn't slept in two days!

"Go to sleep, _mon ange_. You could certainly use as much as you can get after your...ordeal."

"No, no, no," she said, stretching." I'm fine. How about I go clean something?"

He chuckled softly. She always cleaned when she didn't want to go to sleep.

"All right, but no staying up too late."

"Who are ye, me father?" she said in a random Scottish accent.

"Suit yourself!" he laughed. "I'll be out in a moment."

She smiled, and left his room, leaving her violin; perhaps by accident, perhaps not. He noticed, but didn't tell her; it would give him a reason to see her again.

She began her cleaning in his studio, with his paints, pencils and easels all around her. She was immersed with art, just as she had always wanted...

She was so tired though. In order to keep herself from nodding off in the middle of reorganizing, she started to hum, which inevitably graduated into soft singing...

_"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."_

Erik heard her, walking from his room in his new attire, and suddenly, all the lost feelings for Christine stirred within him again. But this time, they were for her, not Christine.

She opened her mouth to sing the next verse, but he began before her.

_"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender."_

He touched her face lightly, turning her to look at him.

_"Turn your face away! From the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light...and listen to the music of the night. Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirt start to soar!"_

She smiled and closed her eyes, listening to his beautifully entrancing voice.

_"And you'll live as you've never lived before."_

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards him...But he pulled away, fearing he was being too forward. She had, after all, just returned, and she was tired and sore...But her hands held him close to her, and, receiving her permission, he continued...

_"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you, open up your mind. Let your fantasies unwind in this darkness that you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night."_

Taking her hand in his, he led her up the steps, away from his studio and towards the piano.

_"Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be! Only then can you belong to me."_

He smiled and spun her into his arms again.

_"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night!" _

He fixed her with a questioning look. She nodded in understanding, and he picked her up, carrying her to her room. She was tired after all...He rested her on the bed, kissing her hand lightly, intending to leave her there; she needed to sleep, no disturbances. But she kept a grip on his hand, encouraging him to finish his song.

_"You alone can make my song take flight..."_

She leaned in. He leaned in. They kissed. The two sang the last verse together, looking into each others eyes.

_"Help me make the music of the...night."_

He climbed into bed next to her, wrapped her once more in his arms, and then, each breathing in rhythmic order to the other...fell asleep. Simple and hopelessly romantic as that.

* * *

Next chapter, EPILOGUE


	26. A Short Epilogue

Epilogue

This is the last chapter of 'Just Visiting' everybody! I hope you guys enjoyed reading it, because I sure did enjoy writing it! This epilogue just sums up in two chapters what happens next...

* * *

And the rest is operatic, Parisian, and romantic history. Here's what happened to the characters of this story...

Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae officially divorced a few months after the murder of Gaston, aka _Celui_. Christine decidedly discontinued her contract with the _Opera Populaire_ as Prima Donna, and returned to her aunt's house in Soho to live out the rest of her life, alone, forever blaming herself for her own vain misery. Raoul, meanwhile, accepted Danielle into his home happily, and the two eventually-and inevitably-began feeling for one another in one of those loving ways. They would marry a year and a half later, in the Paris countryside, where they also spent their honeymoon holiday. Danielle continued her career at the opera house, becoming greater than Christine Daae herself, the once famous ingenue. Danielle was better, everyone agreed. Raoul became more of a political figure without the hindrance of Christine; Danielle explained to him she loved him but didn't want any of the emotions to interfere with his position as Count. (Yes, his brother, Phillipe died shortly after the _Celui_ incident. Perhaps the stress got to him?) Raoul understood perfectly, and helped shape Paris into a much better and thriving city, economically and culturally.

Now, onto the Phantom of the Opera and Elsa...Erik trained Elsa to become a virtuoso of the violin-she played only on the violin Erik had given her-and she soon took up an orchestra seat, becoming one of the best the Populaire had heard. Erik continued writing plays and operas, once again happy to share his creativity because he knew if no one else appreciated it, Elsa would always. She was always with him, and the two could be heard playing duets and even singing together, sometimes during the middle of the night. Some Parisians ventured to say Elsa's voice rivaled that of the new Prima Donna's-Danielle's-but Elsa would always push the thought away. The two remained close friends, of course, because Danielle was the star and Elsa was the artist. She even started her own reputation as being an opera ghost, for, when she decided to retire from her public musical seat, she was often spotted with Erik, the two sneaking around the opera house, as opera ghosts would. As much as they cared for each other, Erik and Elsa, however, were never married officially. Neither of them saw the point of getting a minister to tell them they loved each other as much as they did, and that God had witnessed it. But love each other they did. Erik loved Elsa, and she loved him, more than anyone would ever know, and they remained that way until, certainly, the end of their days, when the Opera Ghost and his love would be remembered as the geniuses of the Opera Populaire, their accomplishments shared with the public throughout Parisian history.

And as you can see, both Danielle and Elsa, were not 'Just Visiting...'

* * *

Oh, brava, brava. bravissima! It's over! --tear-- It was great fun, and I thank all of you who helped me along. (I feel like I'm accepting an Oscar, haha.) I owe all my reviewers alow bow! And a last mask shaped cookie! Good news though-I will not be stopping this story posting hobby I've accustomed myself too. Go check out the other story, and there are a few more in the works. Did I already tell you all that...?

Thanks once again!  
Your obedient Author and Phantom,

O.G. JR.


End file.
